JOSEPHINE 



THE LIFE 



OF THE 



EMPRESS JOSEPHINE 



n 



FIRST v\^lFE OF 



NAPOLEON. 






C/^' ' 
(>;•* 



p. C. HE ABLE Y, — 



Author of "Women of the Bibxe," Etc. 



AUBURN: 

DERBY, MILLER & CO. 

1850. 






•C-O 



^O 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1850, 

BY DERBY, MILLER & CO., 

In the Clerk's Office of the Northern District of New York. 






H. OLIPHANT, PRINTER, AUBURN, 



S^aSte 



AyL^^.^:^^^:^^^ //^f^^ 



PREFACE. 



In offering another biography of Josephine to the 
admirers of that brilhant woman, it was the design 
of both the Author and PubUshers, to furnish in a 
more popular form than any similar work in print, an 
impartial delineation of her character, and a general 
view of the times in which she lived. A strictly ori- 
ginal work is not claimed, as no access could be had 
to manuscripts of the departed, or to the archives of 
France. For the correspondence, we are mamly 
indebted to Memes ; and have referred for various 
interesting facts, to Bourrienne, Hazlitt, Von Rotteckj 
Scott, Alison, &c. 

Josephine was a model of female character ; and 
if this volume shall make the study of it more gen- 
eral, it will so far extend the admiration of the pure 
and beautiful, in contrast with all the forms of cor- 



VI 



PREFACE. 



ruption humanity could present in a period of bloody 
Revolution. The Empress was a greater personage 
than Napoleon in the elements of moral grandeur, 
and retahied her sovereignty in the hearts of the peo- 
ple, while he ruled by the unrivaled splendor of his 
genius. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER I. 

Interest of Josephine's History Birth and Family Early years 

First Love Singular prediction Circumstances which cherished 

Superstition Attachment broken off Becomes acquainted with 

Beauharnais Is Married Visits the Court of France Makes Pro- 
vincial Tours The Birth of Eugene and Hortense Domestic Dif- 
ficulties Separation from her Husband Retirement Returns to 

Martinique Residence there Her return to France Incidents of 

the voyage. ..Is united to her Family Origin of the French Revolution 

Estates General Convoked... .Beauharnais a Member Upon its 

Dissolution again enters the Army His principles and humanity 

Elected to the National Convention Appointed Commander on the 

German Frontier Despatch to the Convention.... 13 



CHAPTER II. 

Fall of the Gironde Beauharnais arrested and imprisoned Letter of 

Josephine to her Aunt Friends forsake her Correspondence with 

Beauharnais Levity in view of Death, and Infidelity during the 

Reign of Terror Josephine's kindness to the suffering Exami- 
nation of Beauharnais Louis obtains an interview for Beauharnais 

with his Family Josephine's description of the Scene Parental 

Influence Beauharnais Betrayed His danger increased by new 

events Charge of Conspiracy Eugene and Hortense examined 

Josephine's account of the transaction Again visits the Luxem- 
bourg Scenes in Prison Letters Robespierre . 31 



Vlll CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER III. 

Josephine undeceived Her Arrest Description of the Scene The 

Prison — Hortenseand Eugene.-., Josephine's composure Her kind- 
ness to the prisoners Correspondence with Beauharnais renewed 

Romantic Story Prison Horrors Beauharnais' interest in the 

Young Maniac. ..Returning hope Levity of Prisoners Jose- 
phine's maternal character. ...Robespierre's policy The interposi- 
tion of Friends Josephine's appeal to Sigas... .Result Meeting of 

Beauharnais and Josephine Crisis in destiny Last hours of Beau- 
harnais His Execution Relics unexpectedly received by Josephine 

Her Distress and Danger Cheered by the prophecy of Euphemia 

Circumstances of Robespierre's Death.... Liberation of Josephine 

Interest in her Children Famine Domestic Suffering Sur- 
vey of the Revolution Beauharnais Family towards the cjose of the 

year 1795. 63 



CHAPTER lY. 

Bonaparte in Paris A glance at his History Personal appearance 

His exploit the 13th Vendemiaire Acquaintance with Josephine 

Her views of a second marriage Hesitates Napoleon frequents 

the mansion of Madam De Beauharnais His conversational pow- 
ers Marriage Leaves his Bride to join the Army Brilliant 

success Correspondence Eugene's Heroism Letters to Jose- 
phine Her residence at Milan Bonaparte's peculiarities, and kind- 
ness to Josephine's Family He marches to Rastadt Returns tc 

Paiis Josephine joins him. - 102 



CHAPTER V. 

Departukh of Napoleon for Egypt The parting with Josephine at Tou- 
lon She retires to Plombieres Accident. ...Sends for Hortense 

Excursion Home. ..-Rare qualities of Josephine's character 

Consequences of her confinement at Plombieres Rumors of Napo- 
leon's disasters in Egypt Malmaison Josephine watched by 

secret enemies Charges of infidelity transmitted to Napoleon 

Her innocence vindicated Maternal solicitude and faithfulness 

Napoleon's return to France Unfortunate mistake His anger 

The reconcilliation.... France 122 



CONTENTS. IX 



CHAPTER VI. 

Napoleon's design Josephine's political views Eugene Convivial 

scenes The 18th Brumaire Napoleon First Consul The result 

Murat's marriage His treachery Josephine's meditation 

Life in the Tuilleries Josephine Bonaparte He orders the im- 
provement of Malmaison Escapes assassination Again crosses 

the Alps Battle of Marengo Relaxation at Malmaison Jose- 
phine's benevolence Conspiracy and the Infernal Machine Mar- 
riage of Hortense Character of Louis Bonaparte Person and char- 
acter of Hortense Incidents by the way Important events , 

Peace of Amiens Gayety of the People Home of the Consul 

Renewal of hostilities with England Accident Napoleon's view 

of death 144 



CHAPTER Vn. 

Josephine and the Bourbon Conspirators Duke D'Enghien His death 

Josephine's grief and her sympathy for the conspirators Bona- 
parte's movements His ambition Views of the Senate Bona- 
parte becomeg Emperor of France Oath administered to the Le- 
gion of Honor Emotions of Josephine Royal Court Excur- 
sions to Boulogne The Princess of Baden Incidents Jose- 
phine's forebodings Religious marriage of Josephine The Coro- 
nation - - 198 



CHAPTER Vni. 

FaANCB and Josephine at this period of history Rejoicings of the People 

Important events Tour to Milan Napoleon visits Brienne 

With Josephine Crosses the Alps Plain of Marengo The Coro- 
nation at Milan Sojourn there News of probaole hostilities 

Josephine at Genoa The rapid travel to Paris. ...Preparations for 

War Josephine Regent of France Letter to Cambaceres Na- 
poleon's Victories Arrival of a Courier Marriage of Eugene.... 

Josephine's Letter upon the expected Marriage of her niece Stephanie 

De Beauharnais The Royal Family Domestic arrrangemenfs 

Bonapaite's habits and illness Hunting Excursions Hatred of Bo- 
naparte's relatives towaids Josephine Her kindness in return Na- 
poleon's movements 224 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER IX. 

A NEW phase in Josephine's Destiny Napoleon's Love His desire for 

a successor Rumor that the Prince Royal of Holland is to be the 

heir-apparent Character of the Foung Prince His affection for 

Bonaparte Alternate hope and fear The Prince dies Jose- 
phine's grief Napoleon's return from Tilsit Treatment of the 

Empress Journey to Italy Scenes at the Capital Napoleon - 

Josephine's diary Spanish affairs Incidents of the journey The 

Emperor meets Alexander Results Josephine Return to Paris 

Bonaparte's designs Preparations for a divorce Decree of the 

Council Consummation . 270 



CHAPTER X. 

Josephine's retirement and sorrow Her residence at Malmaison and Na- 
varre Maria Louisa National joy at the birth of Young Napoleon 

Congratulations of Josephine Incidents of Life at Navarre Bona- 
parte's Campaign to Russia His disasters The fidelity of Jose- 
phine Letters Napoleon Abdicates the Throne Josephine re- 
ceives the homage and sympathy of the great Her last Illness and 

Death Funeral.. ..Summary of her Character ,......==. S33 



ERRATA. 



15th page. 16th line, after "especially," insert " to." 

41st " 2d line from bottona, instead of" on," read " in." 

55th •' 28th line, for " apothesizing," read ^^apotheosizing." 

62d " 23d line, for " red," read '• black." 

89th " 3d line, for "began," read '•'■ begU7i." 

I18th " 24th line, for "Vinei," read " Vinci." 

14 1st " 17th line, after " impression," insert " of." 

170th *' 13th line, for " assassins, thrust," read '•'■ assassin's thrust." 

191st " 9th line, after "weight," insert "of." 

198th " 15th line, for " seeming," read ^^ sunny." 

207th " 1st line, for " rank titles," read ^^ rank, titles." 

222d " 8th line, for " princess," read ^^ princes." 

235th " 8th line, after "matron," insert "and." 

258th " 13th line, for " handy work," read handiipork." 

265th " 16th line, for "beasts of mirth," read "izirsiso/'wiWA." 

271st " 27th line, for " of patrician," read " noif o/poinctan." 

308th " 23d line, for "had collected," read '' he had collected." 

316th " 18th line, for "apprizing," read ^'apprising." 



LIFE OF THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 



CHAPTEE I. 

Interest op Josephine's History— Birth and Family —Early year?.— 
First Love.— Singular prediction.— Circumstances which cherished 
Superstition.— Attachment broken off. -Becomes acquainted with 
Beauharnais.— Is Married.— Visits the Court of France.— Makes pro- 
vincial TOURS.— The Birth op Eugene and Hortense.— Domestic Dif- 
ficulties.— Separation from her Husband.— Retirement.— Returns to 
BIartiniq,ue.— Residence there.— Her return to France.— Incidents 
OF the Voyage.— Is united t® hbr family.— Origin op the French Rev- 
ouLUTiON.— Estates General Convoked.— Beauharnais a member.— Up- 
on its Dissolution again enters the Army.— His principles and hu- 
MANiTY.— Elected to the National Convention.— Appointed Comman- 
der on the German Frontier.— Despatch to the Convention. 

The name of Josephine is invested with a roman- 
tic and mournful interest. From the quiet life of her 
island-home, she rose to the splendor of royalty which 
borrowed lustre from her virtues ; then heart-broken 
found retirement, where with a meek resignation that 
contrasts beautifully with the untamed ambition of 
the illustrious exile of St. Helena, she lived till her 
death. Besides, she is identified with those great 
events which mark the ebb and flow of the mighty 
tide bearing the destiny of universal humanity ; rev- 
olutions whose subsiding swell left imperishable char- 



14 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

acters and memorials, like the diluvial epochs that 
have scarred the continents and changed the ocean- 
bed — and v/hich will he studied with increasing in- 
terest by prince and people, the monarch and the sul- 
len serf who chafes against his heavy chain ; till 
man's " inalienable rights " are wrung from the un- 
willing hand of despotism, while rational liberty, sanc- 
tioned and guarded by religion, is secured to the 
awakening nations. 

In this view, Josephine is a heroine of history, 
alike interesting to the contemplative mind, which 
studies biography for the entertainment it affords, and 
to the Statesman who would obtain lessons of politi- 
cal wisdom, and become familiar with the origin and 
progress of revolutions. \ 

Josephine was born on the Island of Martinique, 
the 23d day of June, 1763. Mile. LeNormand, who^ 
is questionable authority, puts the date of her birth 
one day later, the 24th — memorable for the official 
transfer of the island to the French power. Her fa- 
ther, M. Tasher, in early life joined the army, and' 
was promoted to the captaincy in a regiment of cav- 
alry. This rank without farther evidence indicates 
clearly noble descent ; for not until the brilliant inno- 
vations upon ancient custom by Napoleon, were offi- 
cers taken without regard to lineage, from the com- 
mon people. He was ordered to the West Indies in 
1758, where, retiring from service, he settled upon the 
estate La Pagerie. Yery little is known respecting the] | 
childhood and youth of his wife, Mademoiselle de Sa 
nois, connected with a respectable family who cam 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 15 

from a southern province of France, to retrieve the 
reverses of fortune in the New World. She married 
M. Tasher in 1761. 

The data are imperfect, from which to gather a 
complete biography of their gifted daughter ; the asso- 
ciations, and the moral influences which attended her 
juvenile years, giving complexion to her character, and 
shaping her destiny, are comparatively unknown. 

She alludes to the companionship of Maria, a fos- 
ter-sister, or as it is affirmed by some writers, an older 
daughter of M. Tasher, a contemplative and beautiful 
girl. In the enjoyment of this intimacy, surrounded 
by an atmosphere of the finest temperature, and with 
the solemn ocean spread at her feet, she rapidly de- 
veloped both her intellectual and physical powers. 
Kind to all, especially the slaves of the plantation, she 
was admired and caressed; careless-hearted as the 
gazelle, she danced away the hours beneath a sky 
that seemed to laugh in her joyous face. She had a 
passion for music, and would wander away to the sea- 
shore or a forest solitude, and pour her melodies like 
a wild-bird on the air. Of her rich tones, Napo- 
leon said in after years, " The first applause of the 
French people sounded to my ear sweet as the voice 
of Josephine." 

The inhabitants called her the " pretty Creole," and 
her genius was equal to her charms. Her lively ima- 
gination and quick perceptions, made her progress in 
study a pleasant amusement. To copy her own lan- 
guage, " I did not like the restraint of my clothing, nor 
to be cramped in my movements. I ran, and jimipedj 



LD LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 

and danced, from morning to night. Why restrain 
the Avild movements of my childhood ? I wanted to do 
no hurt to those from whom I received any evidences 
of affection. Nature gave me a great facihty for any 
thing I undertook. Learning to read and write, was 
mere pastime." 

She passed much of her time during this period of 
early youth with Madam Renaudin, an amiable aunt, 
whose mansion was the resort of many cultivated per- 
sons, among the colonial inhabitants of the islands. 
Her native refinement was brought out by this culture, 
and she bloomed into womanhood, '' the very persona- 
tion of grace." Love had unconsciously thrown its 
spell upon her blithesome spirit. There was living on 
the island an English family, who sharing in the mis- 
fortunes of Prince Edward, lost their possessions, and 
self-exiled, had fixed their residence near the home of 
Josephine. 

Among these noble fugitives was young William^ 
with whom she rambled and played from their child- 
hood. The parents of each had seen and consented 
to the attachment, and Josephine was promised in mar- 
riage when mature age should make the imion proper. - 

Mr. De K , was called unexpectedly to England ' 

to prove his heirship to the estate of a deceased lord, 
and was accompanied thither by his only son. This 
was a sad blow for Josephine. With Maria, who 
was inclined to melancholy, and loved solitude, her 
sprightly and social nature had less sympathy than 
with other female friends, to whom she would relate 
the story of her attachment, beguiling the hours with 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 17 

omens and day-dreams concerning her destiny and 
absent lover. One day she met a mulatto woman, 
who was generally known as the magician^ on account 
of her skill in foretelling coming events. She bore the 
name Euphemia, and also the familiar surname of 
David. The following is Josephine's account of the 
interview. 

'•The old sibyl, on beholding me, uttered a loud 
exclamation, and almost by force seized my hand. 
She appeared to be under the greatest agitation. 
Amused at these absurdities, as I thought them, I al- 
lowed her to proceed, saying, ' So you discover some- 
thing extraordinary in my destiny ? ' ' Yes.' ' Is hap- 
piness or misfortune to be my lot? ' 'Misfortune : Ah, 
stop ! — and happiness too.' ' You take care not to 
commit yourself, my good dame ; your oracles are not 
the most intelligible.' ' I am not permitted to render 
them more clear,' said the woman, raising her eyes 
with a mysterious expression towards heaven. ' But 
to the point,' replied I, for my curiosity began to be 
excited ; ' what read you concerning me in futurity ? ' 
' What do I see in the future ? You will not believe 
me if I speak.' ' Yes, indeed, I assure you. Come, 
my good mother, what am I to fear and hope ? ' ' On 
your head be it then ; listen : You will be married 
soon ; that union will not be happy ; you will become a 
widow, and then — then you will be Queen of France ! 
Some happy years will be yours ; but you will die in 
an hospital, amid civil commotions.' 

" On concluding these words," continued Josephine, 
" the old woman burst from the crowd, and hurried 



18 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

away, as fast as her limbs, enfeebled by age, would 
permit. I forbade the bystanders to molest or banter 
the pretended prophetess on this ridiculous prediction ; 
and took occasion, from the seeming absurdity of the 
whole proceeding, to caution the young negresses how 
they gave heed to such matters. Henceforth, I 
thought of the affair only to laugh at it with my rela- 
tives. But afterward, when my husband had perished 
on the scaffold, in spite of my better judgment, this 
prediction forcibly recurred to my mind after a lapse 
of years ; and though I was myself then in prison, the 
transaction daily assumed a less improbable character, 
and I ended by regarding the fulfillment as almost a 
matter of course." 

The circumstances of such a prediction are among 
the authenticated facts in her history : yet to minds 
unaffected with superstitions of the kind, the result 
will appear only one of those striking coincidences 
which sometimes occur in the lowest species of this 
prophetic legerdemain. 

Josephine was almost necessarily superstitious. 
From the dawn of consciousness, she was under the 
influence of parental faith in the marvelous, and lis- 
tened to the wild tales of unearthly scenes,. common 
among the negro population, till her imagination was 
excited with the mysteries of human life ; and that 
desire to read the future, more or less active in every 
mind, became a painful solicitude, that not unfre- 
quently made her sensitive spirit recoil with trembling 
from her unfolding destiny. This was no blemish 
upon her character ; for under similar culture the Pu- 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 19 

ritans of England and America, became monomanics 
in their belief of the supernatural, and the very phe- 
nomena of nature to their disordered fancy, blent with 
them the gloom and the glories of eternity. 

Thus passed the years to this lovely maiden, so 
soon to enter upon the arena of French revolutions, 
and play her part with kings, under the eye of star- 
tled Europe, xlmong flowers and birds — on the lawn 
and by the sea-side, her gentle heart unfolded its 
pure affections, and sighed over visions of love which 
had faded. Parental opposition with circumstances 
unknown to her, interposed a hopeless separation be- 
tween her and William De K ; though she never 

forgot him on whom she had lavished the wealth of 
her young heart's devotion, even while she- graced a 
throne, and won the admiration of millions. 

But new events now engaged her thoughts, and 
opened before her the career of greatness and of trial. 
Yiscount Alexajider de Beauharnais, who held estates 
in Martinique under lease to M. Renaudin, visited the 
island to establish his claim to the inheritance. He 
however, had some time before come to the New Con- 
tinent, with a commission in the French army, fired 
with the enthusiasm for liberty, v/hich had just burst 
like a conflagration from the bosom of the American 
Colonies upon the v/orld. 

Through Madam Renaudin, he became acquainted 
with the M. Tasher family, and interested in. Jose- 
phine, who was now in the glory of her youthful 
beauty. That influential lady had fixed her choice 
upon Beauharnais for the future husband of her ad- 



20 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

mired protege ; and though the design met with hitter 
opposition from relatives, this obstacle yielded to the 
unaffected kindness and winning manners of Jose- 
phine, and the marriage took place soon after she had 
passed her sixteenth year. Beauharnais though sev- 
eral years older, was young in appearance, and of 
commanding figure. During their visit to the capital 
of Pranc^ she was flattered by the nobility, and upon 
her presentation at Court, received the most marked 
attentions from Marie Antoinette ; who seemed scarcely 
less to admire the accomplished man who had intro- 
duced the fair creole into the brilliant circle she 
adorned — and called him the heau danseur of the 
royal saloons. 

The months vanished like visions to the bewil- 
dered Josephine, in the splendid scenes crowding the 
gay circles of Paris and Versailles. Weary of pleas- 
ure, she accompanied her husband in provincial tours, 
visiting the ancestral domains in Brittany, where she 
gave birth to Eugene, an only son, and afterwards the 
distinguished Viceroy of Italy. 

This was in 1780 ; and in 1783, Hortense was 
born, who became Q,ueen of Holland. Though sur- 
rounded by all that could gratify ambition and taste 
— the embellishments of art, lavished on a beautiful 
residence — gorgeous equipage and retinue — happy in 
the domestic relations, and beloved by a legion of 
friends, a midnight cloud was gathering upon her 
radiant future. Beauharnais had caught the moral 
infection which pervaded the fashionable world, and 
made its shining exterior delusive as the phospho- 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 21 

rescent light that sometimes plays upon the surface 
of a decaying form, from which life has departed. 
Josephine suspected his fidelity, while he in turn, it 
would seem from the partial disclosures made of 
this mipleasant and obscure transaction, doubted 
the sincerity of her affection, through the influence 
of a jealous female friend, who intimated that the 
heart of his Creole wife, was given unalterably to an- 
other. Whether in any degree she gave occasion for 
suspicion, is of little consequence, where the guilt and 
responsibility of what followed, are plainly his own. 

His notions of conjugal fidelity in common with the 
courtiers of that period, and those that prevailed du- 
ring the reign of the dissolute Charles of England, 
were unworthy the man who won the hand of Jose- 
phine ; and she resented the insult he offered to her 
truthful and virtuous spirit, by his gallantries toward 
a woman she despised. It was not long, when the 
language of affection was exchanged for accusation 
and keen retort, before that knell of happiness, separ- 
ation^ passed his lips. 

He designed to interpose a final barrier, which 
stung the proud heart of Josephine, and with weep- 
ing she besought him to avert this humiliating blow. 
It appears however, that he commenced the suit for 
a divorce, which by her own management and the 
influence of friends, was defeated. In her retirement 
at this time, she felt all that heavy gloom, and aban- 
don of sorrow, which fall like night on noonday, 
upon a heart in which feeling was the ruling ele- 
ment, moving ever to the Cynosure of love, and 



22 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

whose romantic dreams seemed already in their ful- 
fillmentj when they dissolved in tears. Her reading 
harmonized with the hue of her mournful thoughts. 
" Night Thoughts," and " Hervey's Meditations," be- 
came familiar books, and led her contemplations to 
the vast realities of a life to come — " the littleness of 
time, and the greatness of that eternity which lies be- 
yond it." Whether she cherished any deep and prac- 
tical religious impressions, imparting to her character 
that purest element of heroism, christian fortitude, is 
not known. 

Returning to her beloved Martinique, she found re- 
pose among the friends of her girlhood, and in the 
quiet beauty of her sea-girdled home. Though tran- 
quility was restored to outward life, yet like the sun-lit 
tide she sometimes watched, laying its undulations 
in foam at her feet, while the sobbings of the reti- 
ring storm were heard in the distance ; there were 
emotions which had no rest in her bosom, while mem- 
ory turned to France, and the tempest which had 
driven her an exile from a husband and son to whom 
her affections clung. 

So the years fled, till the tidings reached Josephine, 
that Beauharnais was prepared to welcome her back 
with renewed kindness and devotion. With a wo- 
man's heart she had longed for an honorable restora- 
tion to her lost position as wife and mother, and hear 
again the music of Eugene's filial voice, and she pre- 
pared to embark. Long afterwards, she gave the fol- 
lowing simple narration of her voyage before the ladies 
of her Court at Navarre, while they were admiring 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 23 

her unrivaled collection of jewels, whose richness and 
beauty attracted the attention of her most illustrious 
visitors. 

" Believe me my young friends, that splendor is not 
to be envied which does not constitute happiness. I 
shall doubtless very much surprise you, by saying 
that the gift of a pair of old shoes afforded me at one 
time greater satisfaction than all these diamonds now 
before you ever did." Here her youthful auditors 
could hardly refrain from visibly intimating their con- 
jecture that this remark was intended as a pleasantry. 
Josephine's serious air assuring them of their mistake, 
they began, with one accord, to express their respect- 
ful desire of hearing the history of these famous shoes, 
which, to their imaginations, already promised greater 
wonders than the marvels of the glass-slipper. 

" Yes ladies," resumed their amiable mistress ; " it 
is certain, that of all the presents I ever in my life re- 
ceived, the one which gave me the greatest pleasure 
was a pair of old shoes — and these, too, of coarse 
leather. This you will understand in the sequel. 

"(Quitting Martinico, I had taken a passage on 
board a ship, where we were treated with an attention 
which I shall never forget. Having separated from 
my first husband, I was far from rich. Obliged to 
return to France on family affairs, the passage had ab- 
sorbed the major part of my resources ; and, indeed, 
not without much difficulty had I been able to pro- 
vide the most indispensible requisites for our voyage. 
Hoitense, obliging and lively, performing with much 
agility the dances of the negroes, and singing their 



24 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 



songs with surprising correctness, greatly amused the 
sailors, who, from being her constant playfellows, had 
become her favorite society. No sooner did she ob- 
serve me to be engaged, than, mounting upon deck, 
and there the object of general admiration, she repeat- 
ed all her little exercises to the satisfaction of every 
one. An old quarter-master was particularly attach- 
ed to the child ; and whenever his duties permitted 
him a moment's leisure, he devoted the interval to his 
young friend, who, in turn, doted upon the old man. 
What with running, leaping, and dancing, my daugh- 
ter's slight shoes were fairly worn out. Knowing she 
had not another pair, and fearing I v/ould forbid her 
going upon deck should this defect in her attire be 
discovered, Hortense carefully concealed the disas- 
ter, and one day I experienced the distress of behold- 
ing her return, leaving every footmark in blood. 
Fearing some terrible accident, I asked, in aifright, if 
she was hurt. ' No, mamma ! ' ' But see, the blood 
is streaming from your feet.' ' It is nothing, I assure 
you.' Upon examining how matters stood, I found 
the shoes literally in tatters, and her feet dreadfully 
torn by a nail. We v/ere not yet more than half-way ; 
and before reaching France it seemed impossible to 
procure another pair of shoes. I felt quite overcome 
at the idea of the sorrow my poor Hortense would 
suffer, as also at the danger to which her health 
might be exposed, by confinement in my miserable 
little cabin. "We began to weep bitterly, and found 
no solace in our grief. At this moment entered our 
good friend the quarter-master, and, with honest 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINi:. 25 



blimtness, enquired the cause of our tears. Hortense, 
sobbing all the while, eagerly informed him that she 
would no more get upon deck, for her shoes were 
worn, and mamma had no others to give her. ' Non- 
sense,' said the worthy seaman ; ' is that all ; I have 
an old pair somewhere in my chest. You, madam, 
can cut them to the shape, and I'll splice them up 
again as well as need be. Shiver my timbers ! on 
board ship you must put up with many things ; we 
are neither landsmen nor fops, provided we have the 
necessary — thafs the most principal.'^ Without giv- 
ing time for a reply, away hastened the kind quarter- 
master in search of his old shoes. These he soon af- 
ter brought to us with a triumphant air, and they 
were received by Hortense with demonstrations of the 
most lively joy. To w^ork we set with all zeal, and 
before day closed my daughter could resume her de- 
lightful duties of supplying the evening's diversion to 
the crew. I again repeat, never was a present re- 
ceived v/ith greater thankfulness. It has since often 
been matter of self-reproach that I did not particularly 
enquire into the name and history of our benefactor, 
who was known on board only as Jacques. It 
would have been gratifying to me to have done some- 
thing for him when, afterwards, means were in my 
power." 

Soon after her arrival, she was once more united in 
'• sweet concord," as she expressed it, to M. de Beau- 
harnais. The gloomy scenes of the past were forgot- 
ten amid the sacred joys of domestic peace, and Jose- 
phine was happy as she had been miserable — devo- 



26 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 

ting her tact and energies to the ruUng purpose of 
making her mansion the attractive centre of fehcity 
to her husband. But her suffering country was pre- 
paring a cup of deeper woe, aUhough it could not 
press to her trembhng hps the poison of self-reproach. 

The pohtical elements which had long been in agi- 
tation now blackened the heavens over the exaspe- 
rated masses of France. From the conquest wars of 
Louis XIV., which slaughtered men and absorbed 
money, followed by his profusion, and the magnifi- 
cence of his court, the corruption of the social state, 
and burdens of the poor had rapidly increased ; while 
an insolent nobility and dissolute clergy rioted on re- 
sources wrung from the starving millions. Added to 
these facts, the American contest for liberty, had 
thrown new ideas of right and oppression, like rockets 
into a magazine, among the pillaged and discontented 
classes. 

Louis XVL, was now on the throne, whom '' Fate 
had selected as the expiatory victim of the faults of 
his predecessors." He was evidently a monarch of 
benevolent and honest heart, but neither brilliant nor 
heroic — irresolute, and without independence of char- 
acter, he was incapable of stilling or guiding the 
storm, 

Beauharnais sympathized with the King, while he 
was imbued with republican principles and ready to 
strike for reform. Calonne, the minister of state, 
alarmed at the current deficit in the finances, which 
in one year was increased one hundred mid tioenty- 
five millions of livres, represented the necessity of 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 27 

immediate and radical reform to the King, and pro- 
posed a convocation of the Assembly of the Notables ; 
which occurred in the spring of 1787. Though lit- 
tle was directly accomplished, it prepared the way for 
convoking the States General, which the people 
throughout the Kingdom now demanded in language 
that must be heard. The King yielded, and the dep- 
uties of the three estates assembled at Yersailles, 27th 
of April, 1789. Beauharnais now appears boldly in 
the revolution, before whose terrific might were sunk 
a throne and splendid aristocracy, while the fetters of 
despotism which bore the rust of ages, were severed 
like threads of gossamer. In this "Constitutional 
Assembly " he took his seat as representative for the 
nobles of Blois. He was conservative in his views ; 
opposed to those high privileges and feudal laws which 
excluded the noblesse from the progressive movement 
of the age, he did not enter fully into the extreme 
doctrines of democracy which spread like a contagion 
among the rising masses. He made speeches and in- 
troduced reports of conciliatory yet republican tone — 
committing himself fully to the deepening commotion 
which was soon to become a national tragedy. The 
Assembly was dissolved, September 20, 1791. By a 
resolution passed, the members were ineligible to re- 
election for a time, and the Viscount Beauharnais, 
again entered the army. He was associated with 
La Fayette after the events of August 10th, 1792 ; 
and became a member of the third or National Con- 
vention, of which he was twice chosen president. A 
Girondist in politics, he was humane in action, and 



28 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

earnestly desired the safety of the King, whose doom 
he might delay, but could not change ; for his blood 
must be poured like oil on the angry billows, it would 
fail to calm. While Josephine's husband was thus 
engaged in reform, her brother-in-law, the Marquis de 
Beauharnais, was equally devoted to royalty, and a 
major-general in the army of Conde. But in vain 
were his efforts— Louis was beheaded, and the san- 
guinary struggle went forward. The Yiscount, was 
appointed commander-in-chief of the Rhine, to defend 
the German frontier ; for Europe was fairly awake 
and revolutionary nobles were obliged to serve as 
generals, in the absence of experienced leaders for the 
excited and desperate throng, harnessed to this car of 
Juggernot, which on puritan ground was but the 
Temple of Liberty, lifting its beautiful proportions 
amid a rational people, who with a strong and steady 
arm had beaten back the invader of human rights. 

The following despatch exhibits the generalship 
and the republicanism of Beauharnais ; dropping by 
the omission of the de in the autograph, every indica- 
tion of titled aristocracy. 

To THE National Convention : ) 
Head quarters. Landau, 20th July, 1793. \ 

" I have to inform you, citizen-representatives, that 
on the night of the 19th, I quitted the position on the 
heights of Menfield, in order to take up another nearer 
Landau ; and, at the same time, to attack the ene- 
my encamped in the vicinity of that place. I direct- 
ed the army to advance in six columns, three of 
which were destined for false attacks. The princi- 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 29 

pal object was to obtain possession of the passes of 
Anweiller, and the heights of Frankweiller, in front 
of these passes ; and upon which the enemy lay 
strongly entrenched. Every thing succeeded to my 
wish. General Arlandes, with the 10th regiment of 
infantr}?-, seized the pass of Anweiiler ; General Mey- 
nier at the head of the 67th, occupied at the same 
instant Alberweiller and the various defiles leading 
therefrom ; the vanguard, led on by Generals Land- 
remont, Loubat, and Delmas, repulsed the enemy 
with loss from the heights of Frankweiller, which 
was guarded by the emigrants and the free corps of 
Wurmser. 

" General Gilot, making a sortie with three thou- 
sand of the brave garrison of Landau, in order to oc- 
cupy the enemy's attention at a point where his line 
rested upon a wood, proved successful in that quarter. 
The false attacks directed by General Ferriere, and 
those of the brigades of Generals Lafarelle and Me- 
quillet, on the respective points of the hostile line, oc- 
casioned a diversion highly favorable to the main at- 
tack, by causing the evacuation of the villages of 
Betheim, Kintelsheim, and Ottersheim. Everywhere 
the enemies of the republic have been driven back 
with loss, and have left, contrary to their practice, the 
field covered with their dead and wounded. We 
made some prisoners, and have captured several re- 
doubts, without cannon, it is true, but in which our 
brave soldiers found bread, great coats, and supplies 
of various kinds. 

" This action, so fortunate in its results, since the 



30 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 

troops of the republic have successfully effected what 
I had proposed, gives anticipation of still more im- 
portant advantages. My communications with the 
army of Moselle have meanwhile been established by 
the county of Deuxponts ; and the courage of the re- 
publicans composing the army of the Rhine promises 
to become more and more worthy of national confi- 
dence, by fulfilling those engagements which that ar- 
my, by its situation and force, and through the inter- 
ests of the important city now beseiged, had contract- 
ed with the country. I am yet unable to speak in 
detail of those individual achievements which merit 
the attention of the representatives of the people, and 
in a free state call for an expression of national grati- 
tude ; but my next letter will contain the necessary 
particulars. 

" I request you again to accept from all the repub- 
licans of the army of the Rhine, the homage of fideli- 
ty to the Republic, one and indivisible, of their attach- 
ment to the constitution, and of their gratitude to the 
estimable legislature to whom that constitution is 
owing. 

^' The commander-in-chief 

of the Army of the Rhine, 

"Alexander Beauiiarnais." 

This was his last effort for his country — a new 
chapter is opened in the bloody annals of this period, 
and in the history of the noble De Beauharnais. 



CHAPTER II. 

Fall of the Girondb.— Reauharnais arrested and imprisoned.— Letter 
OF Josephine to her Aunt. — Friends forsake her. — Correspondence 
WITH Beauharnais. — Levity in view of Death, and infidelity during 
THE Reign of Terror — Josephine's kindness to the suffering. — Ex- 
amination OF Beauharnais.— Louis obtains an interview for Beau- 
harnais WITH his Family. — Josephine's description of the Scene. — 
Parental influence.— Beauharnais betrayed.— His danger increased 
by new events. — charge of conspiracy. — eugene and hortense ex- 
AMINED.— JoSEPHINE'S account of THE TRANSACTION. — AGAIN VISITS THE 

Luxembourg.— Scenes in prison. — Letters. — Robespierre, 

During the progress of the Revolution, a formida- 
ble club had arisen, called Jacobins^ from a suppress- 
ed cloister of that name, in which the deputies from 
Bretagne that composed it, held their sessions. In 
this society, enthuiasm at first Avell directed, passed 
into reckless ambition and lawless passion — Marat, 
Danton and Robespierre, were the fit leaders of this 
wild and reigning faction. Opposed to the extreme 
measures and furious zeal of the Jacobins, was the 
judicious, earnest spirit of the Girondists, who receiv- 
ed their title from the department of Gironde, which 
had furnished the most splendid minds that shone in 
their debates, and gave direction to the patriotic ardor 
of freemen. 

But after the execution of Louis, no barrier was left 
to check the maddened populace, and a revolutiori- 



32 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 

ary tribunal was established, whose decisions were 
final, while the property of the doomed was absorbed 
by the state. The Jacobins, no longer feared the 
political power of the Gironde, whose moderation they 
hated, and their vengeance fell unsparingly on this 
noble party, which in May, 1793, fell in the embrace 
of the blind and many-armed Briareus, whose locks 
were knotted with the best blood of France, and 
whose strokes slaughtered alike the innocent and guil- 
ty. The proscribed sought refuge in concealment and 
flight. But Beauharnais, conscious of integrity, trust- 
ed with mistaken confidence in the magnanimity of 
desperate men who now raved like maniacs, amid the 
desolation and wailing of a kingdom. He was arrest- 
ed by the heartless servitors of Robespierre, and hur- 
ried away to the prisons of the Luxembourg. No bet- 
ter account of the whole transaction, in which rufiian- 
ism triumphed over virtue, and might over right, with- 
out the ground of accusation, can be given than by quo- 
ting the following extract from the letter of Josephine 
to her aunt, residing in the vicinity of Fontainbleau. 

Josephine to Madam Fanny Beauharnais. 

'^Ah, my dear aunt, compassionate — console — coun- 
sel me. Alexander is arrested ; while I write he is 
led away to the Luxembourg ! 

" Two days ago, a man of ill-omened aspect Avas 
seen prowling around our house. Yesterday about 
three o'clock, the porter was interrogated whether 
citizen Beauharnais had returned from St. Germain. 
Now, you know, my aunt, that my husband has not 
been at St. Germain since the month of May. You 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 33 

were of the party, and may recollect that Cubieres 
read to us some verses on the pavilion of Luciennes. 
The same inquisitor reappeared in the evening, ac- 
compained by an old man of huge stature, morose, 
and rude, who put several questions to the porter. 
* You are sure it is Beauharnais the Viscount ? ' 'Ci- 
devant vicounte,' replied our servant. 'The same 
who formerly presided in the assembly ? ' 'I believe 
so.' ' And who is a general officer ? ' ' The same 
sir,' said the porter. ' Sir ! ' sharply interrupted the 
enquirer, and addressing his companion, who had 
said nothing, 'you see the cask always smells the 
herring.' Upon this they disappeared. 

" To-day, about eight in the morning, I was told 
some one wished to speak with me. This was a 
young man, of gentle and decent appearance : he car- 
ried a leather bag in which were several pair of shoes. 
' Citizen,' said the man to me, ' I understand you want 
socks of plum-gray ? ' I looked at my woman, Yic- 
torine, who was present, but she comprehended as lit- 
tle of this question as I did. The young man seemed 
painfully disconcerted ; he kept turning a shoe in his 
hand, and fixed upon me a mournful look. At length, 
approaching close, he said, in an under tone, ' I have 
something to impart to you, madam.' His voice, his 
looks, and a sigh which half-escaped him caused me 
some emotion. ' Explain yourself,' I replied eagerly ; 
' my servant is faithful.' ' Ah ! ' exclaimed he, as if 
involuntarily, ' my life is at stake in this matter.' I 
arose instantly, and dismissed Victorine with a mes- 
sage to call my husband. 



34 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE, 

^' ' Madam,' said the young tradesman, when we 
were alone, -there is not a moment to lose, if you 
would save M. de Beauharnais. The revolutionary 
committee, last night passed a resolution to have him 
arrested, and at this very moment the warrant is ma- 
king out.' I felt as if ready to swoon away. ' How 
know you this?' demanded I, trembling violently. 
' I am one of the committee,' said he, casting down 
his eyes ; ' and being a shoemaker, I thought these 
shoes would aiford me a reasonable pretext for adver- 
tising you, madam.' I could have embraced the good 
young man. He perceived that I wept, and I believe 
tears stood in his own eyes. At this moment Alex- 
ander entered : I threw myself into his arms. ' You 
see my husband,' said I to the shoemaker. ' I have 
the honor of knowing him,' was the reply. 

"Your nephew, learning the service which we had 
received, wished to reward him on the spot. This of- 
fer was declined in a manner which augmented our es- 
teem. Alexander held out his hand, which the young 
man took with respect, but without embarrassment. 
Spite of our solicitations, Alexander refused to flee. 
' With what can they charge me 7 ' asked he ; ' I love 
liberty ; I have borne arms for the Revolution ; and 
had that depended upon me, the termination would 
have been in favor of the people.' ' But you are a 
noble,' answered the young man, ' and that is a crime 
in the eyes of revolutionists, — it is an irreparable mis- 
fortune.' ' Which they can charge as a crime,' ad- 
ded I ; ' and moreover, they accuse you of hav- 
ing been one in the Constitutional Assembly.' ' My 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 35 

friend,' replied Alexander with a noble expression and 
firm tone, ' such is my most honorable title to glory — ■ 
the only claim, in fine, which I prefer. Who would 
not be proud of having proclaimed the rights of the 
nation, the fall of despotism, and the reign of the 
laws ? ' ' What laws ! ' exclaimed I : ' it is in blood 
they are written.' 'Madam,' said the young man, 
with an accent such as he had not yet employed, 
' when the tree of liberty is planted in an unfriendly 
soil, it must be watered with the blood of its ene- 
mies.' Beauharnais and I looked at each other ; in 
the young man, whom nature had constituted with so 
much feeling, we recognised the revolutionist whom 
the ncAV principles had been able to render cruel. 

" Meanwhile, time elapsed ; he took his leave of 
us, repeating to my husband, ' Within an hour it will 
no longer be possible to withdraw yourself from 
search. I wished to save, because I believe you in- 
nocent ; such was my duty to humanity ; but if I am 
commanded to arrest you, — pardon me ; I shall do 
my duty, and you will acknowledge the patriot. In 
you I have ever beheld an honorable man — a noble 
and generous heart ; it is impossible, therefore, that 
you should not also be a good citizen.' 

"When our visitor had departed, 'Such,' said Alex- 
ander to me, ' are prejudices with which our youth are 
poisoned. The blood of the nobles, of those even the 
most devoted to the new ideas, must nourish liberty. 
If these new men of the Revolution, were only cruel 
and turbulent, this sanguinary thirst, this despotic 
rage, would pass away ; but they are systematic, and 



36 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

Robespierre has reduced revolutionary action into a 
doctrine. The movement v/ill cease only when its 
enemies, real or presumed, are annihilated, or Avhen 
its author shall be no m.ore. But this is an ordeal 
which must in the end strengthen liberty ; she will 
ferment and work herself clear in blood.' ' You make 
me shudder,' said I to Alexander ; ' can you speak 
this and not flee ? ' ' Whither flee ? ' answered my hus- 
band : ' is there a vault, a garret, a hiding-place into 
which the eye of the tyrant does not penetrate ? Do 
you reflect that he sees with the eye of forty thousand 
committees animated by like dispositions and strong 
in his will ? The torrent rolls along, and the people 
throwing themselves into it, augment its force. We 
must yield : if I be condemned, how escape ? if I be 
not, free or in prison, I have nothing to fear.' My 
tears, my entreaties were vain. At a quarter before 
twelve, three members of the revolutionary committee 
made their appearance, and our house was filled with 
8.rmed men. 

" Think you my young cordwainer formed one in 
this band ? you are not deceived, and his functions 
there were painful to me. I confess, however, I be- 
held him exercise these with a sort of satisfaction. 
He it was who signified to Alexander the order pla- 
cing him under arrest, which he did with equal ur- 
banity and firmness. In the midst of a crisis so 
grievous to me, I could not help observing in this 
young man a tone of authority and decency which 
placed him in striking contrast with his two colleagues. 
One of these, the same old inquisitor who the night 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 37 

previously had made it his business to enquire con- 
cerning the presence and occupation of my husband, 
was once a planter in Martinico, and who, despite of 
equality^ has never beheld in the human species but 
two classes, — masters and slaves. His present opin- 
ion is, that the Revolution will be brought to a happy 
conclusion only when its agents shall have reduced 
all its enemies to the condition of the negroes of Sen- 
egal when exported into America ; and to accomplish 
this end, he demands that the whole race of priests, 
nobles, proprietors, philosophers, and, in short, all the 
aristocratic classes, be dispatched to St. Domingo, 
there to replace the caste of the blacks, suppressed by 
the Revolution. ' Thus,' added the ferocious wretch, 
addressing his words to me with a sinister glance di- 
rected from his sunken eyes, ' thus the true republi- 
cans secure the grand moral triumph, by measures 
of profound and elevated policy ! ' His third compeer, 
vulgar and brutal, busied himself in taking, in a blus- 
tering way, an inventory of the principal pieces of 
furniture and papers. From these latter he made a 
selection, collecting the pieces into a parcel, which 
was sealed and forwarded to the committee. The 
choice chiefly included reports and discourses pro- 
nounced by Alexander in the Constitutional Assem- 
bly. This meeting, held in horror by the revolution- 
ists, is not less odious to the aristocrats of all classes 
and shades. Does not this prove that that assembly 
had resolved all the problems of the Rev^olution, and, 
as respects liberty, had founded all the necessary 

establishments? From the regime of 1789 it had ta- 
3 



38 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

ken away all means ; from that of 1793 it removed 
all hope. Alexander has often repeated to me, that 
to neither there remained any chance of rising, save 
hy violence and crime. Ah ! why did he foresee so 
justly, and why should he, to the title of a prophet, 
peril aps add that of a martyr." 

De Beauharnais was a prisoner, and Josephine a 
lonely mother. She learned in her calamity, that 
saddest lesson of life, the fraility of friendship, which 
disappears too often, with the first breath of the rising 
storm. She complains touchingly of this abandon- 
ment by those who frequented her mansion in brighter 
days, in a letter to a friend, and turns with mournful 
pleasure to the messages that reach her from the cell 
of her calm and even cheerful husband. 

" Think of my house solitary, myself more solitary 
— more forsaken still. In the course of five days, 
since he was taken from me, all his friends have dis- 
appeared, one by one. At this moment when I sit 
down to write it is six o'clock in the evening, and no- 
body has come here. Nobody ! I am wrong ; my 
excellent young man does not stand aloof; he comes 
twice or thrice in the day with news from Luxem- 
bourg. Provided his duty be not compromised, he 
cares little about exposing his person ; the pestilence 
of misfortune does not keep him at a distance. Alex- 
ander confides to him those letters which he desires I 
only should read ; his jailers, the committee, have 
the first perusal of the others." 

There is a quiet raillerie in his letters, which illus- 
trates the unconquerable buoyancy of the national 



LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 39 

character, as will be seen in the subjoined communi- 
cation. 

Viscount de Beauharnais to Josephine. 
*' Lo ! jjauvre petite^ you are still unreasonable, 
and I must console you ? That however, I can ea- 
sily do ; for even here is the abode of peace when the 
conscience is tranquil, and where one can cultivate 
for one's self and others all the benevolent sentiments 
of the heart, all the best qualities of the spirit, all the 
gentle affections of our nature. I should be troubled 
about our separation, were it to be long ; but I am a 
soldier ; and at a distance from you, my sweet Jose- 
phine, removed from our dear children, I bethink my- 
self of war ; in truth, a slight misadventure is a cam- 
paign against misfortune. Ah ! if you knew how we 
learn to combat our mischance here, you would blush 
for having been afflicted. Every captive — now this 
is literally the case — leaves his sorrows at the grated 
entrance, and shows within only good-humor and se- 
renity. We have transported to the Luxembourg the 
entire of society, excepting politics ; thus, you will 
grant me that we have left the thorns in order to 
gather the roses. We have here charming women, 
who are neither prudes nor coquettes ; old men, who 
neither carp nor moralize, and who demean them- 
selves kindly ; men of mature age, who are not pro- 
jectors ; young men, almost reasonable ; and artists, 
well bred, sober, without pride, amuse us by a num- 
ber of pleasant facts, and entertaining anecdotes ; 
and, what will astonish you more than all the rest, 
we have monied men, become as polite and obliging 



40 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

as they were generally vulgar and impertinent. We 
have here, then, all that is best, always excepting my 
Josephine and our dear children. Oh ! the choice — • 
the good — the best, compose that cherished trio. I 
ought likewise to except our good friend Nevil ; the 
only fault in him is his notion of relationship to Bru- 
tus. As to his title of committee man, I have no re- 
proach to make on that score ; I find it too much in 
my favor. He is the messenger, my beloved friend, 
who will convey to you this letter, in which I enclose 
one thousand kisses, until such time as I shall be 
able more substantially to deliver them myself, and 
without counting." 

Such were the consolations of infidelity during the 
Reign of Terror. Men listened to the sentence of ex- 
ecution with a smile of indifference, made mirth at 
their hastening departure from time, and gazed with 
jesting lips upon the lifted blade of the guillotine, wet 
with the blood of their comrades ; and called it the 
sublime decision of minds which were above the 
shadows of superstition, and in the clear serene of 
reason ! Their courage was madness, and their joy 
the levity of idiotic folly. How strangely in this pe- 
riod of lawlessness and gigantic crime, did man effect 
to efface every trace of the Divine image from his 
soul — hush the forebodings of future retribution — and 
blot out that instinctive desire, to which Von Rotteck 
finely alludes in his splendid history ; " whenever 
men think and feel humanely , there lives the idea, 
the presentiment at least, of God and immortality." 
Neither Beauharnais nor Josephine have left any 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 41 

record of their own religious opinions, amid the blas- 
phemies of this almost universal atheism, whose epi- 
taph upon the tombstones of its murdered victims 
was, " Death is an eternal sleep ! " 

Leaving for a while the frightful scenes of Paris, 
Josephine made every exertion to alleviate the mise- 
ries of the suffering poor she met in the way, or fol- 
lowed to their kennels in the suburbs of the cities. 
Widows and orphans were famishing in groups, while 
the cry for bread was drowned only by that for blood . 
Many of these homeless wretches blessed the hand of 
Josephine, and lived to honor gratefully as Q.ueen her 
whom they loved as a ministering angel when ready 
to perish. Confident of her husband's release, she 
cheerfully waited for the event. In the mean time, 
De Beauharnais was examined before a revolutionary 
committee — a tribunal which in its original institu- 
tion was styled, the "Committee of Public Salva- 
tion ; " at which Robespierre, after he had rid himself 
of Danton who shared the power, presided in " bloody 
omnipotence," and like Nero, gloried in his homicidal 
pastime, till he drained the wine cup of unmingled 
depravity, and died in his hideous intoxication. 

The ordeal was so favorable to the integrity of the 
Viscount, that Josephine was encouraged in hope, and 
sent the following account of the affair to Madam 
Fanny de Beauharnais, which will be read with in- 
terest, both as a record of scenes in which justice was 
a mockery, and an index of characters memorable for 
cruelties inflicted on the name of liberty, that make 
the spirit recoil from the contemplation of history. 



42 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 

"Alexander has been examined to-day, and to- 
morrow I shall have permission to visit him. The 
president of the committee is a good enough man, but 
void of all energy ; whom I know not how many 
quintals of fat deprive of movement, ideas, and al- 
most of speech. With the best intentions in the 
world, he has less authority than the meanest clerk 
in his office. He arrives late, gets to his chair puf- 
fing and blowing, falls down heavily, and, when at 
length he is seated, remains a quarter of an hour 
without speaking. Meanwhile a secretary reads re- 
ports which he does not hear, though affecting to lis- 
ten ; sometimes he falls asleep during the reading, a 
circumstance which prevents not his awaking just in 
time to sign what he has neither heard nor under- 
stood. As to the examinations which he commences, 
and which all of his colleagues continue, some are 
atrocious, a great number ridiculous, and all more or 
less curious. What, indeed, can be more remarkable 
than to behold the highest orders interrogated before 
those, who, notwithstanding their elevation, are but 
the dregs of society ? My dear amit, when I speak 
thus, understand me to make no reference to birth, 
fortune, or privileges ; but to sentiment, conduct, and 
principles. 

'' Enclosed I send you an outline of my husband's 
examination, in which, as you will perceive, the ridic- 
ulous contends with the horrible. Such are the true 
features of our era." 

''^President. — Who are you ? 

M. de Beauharnais. — A man, and a Frenchman. 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 43 

President. — None of your gibes here ! I demand 
your name, 

M. de B. — Eugene- Alexander de Beauharnais. 

A Member. — No de, if you please : it is too aristo- 
cratic. 

M. de B. — Feudal you would say. It is certain, a 
name without the particle would be more rational 
The oifence, if it be one, comes of time, and my an- 
cestors. 

Another Member.— M\ I so you have got ances- 
tors ! The confession is an honest one ; it is well to 
know as much. Note that, citizens ; he has a grand- 
father, and makes no secret of it. [Here nine of the 
twelve members composing the committee fell a laugh- 
ing. One of those who, amid the general gayety, 
had maintained an appearance of seriousness, called 
out, in a loud tone, ' Fools ! who does not know that 
ancestors are old musty parchments ? ' Is it this 
man's fault if his credentials have not been burned ?- 
Citizen, I advise thee to bestow them here with the 
committee, and I give thee the assurance that a good 
bonfire shall soon render us an account of thine an- 
cestors.' Here a ridiculous laughter took possession 
of the entire of the honorable council, and not with- 
out much difficulty could the fat president recall them 
to a sense of decorum. At the same time, this explo- 
sion of hilarity, having put him into good humor, he 
politely requested the accused to be seated. Again 
he was interrupted by a member calling him to order, 
for having used the plural to a suspected citizen. 
Hereupon the uproar began anew more violently than 



44 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

ever, from the word Monsieur having been appHed 
to the president by the member as a joke. Order once 
more estabhshed, my husband embraced the first 
moment of silence to fehcitate the members on the 
innocent nature of their discussions, and to congratu- 
late himself in having for judges magistrates of such 
a joyous disposition.] 

President, with an i?nportant air. — Dost take our 
operations for farces? Thou art prodigiously de- 
ceived. The suspected citizen is right, colleagues, 
in calling us his judges ; that title ought to restore us 
to gravity. Formerly, it was permitted to laugh, 
now we must be serious. 

M. de B. — Such is the distinction between the old 
and new regime. 

President. — Proceed we then seriously, and con- 
tinue the examination. Citizen Jarbac (to one of the 
secretaries,) be'st thou there ? (To M. de B.) — Thy 
titles and qualities ? 

M. de B. — A French citizen, and a general in the 
service of the republic. 

A Mefnher. — President, he does not declare all ; 
he was formerly a — 

Another Member. — A prince or a baron at least. 

M. de B., S7niling. — Only a vicomte, if so please 
you, and quite enough, too. 

President. — Enough ! it is a great deal too much : 
so you confess being a noble. 

M. de B. — I confess that so men called me, and so, 
for some time, I believed, under the reign of ignorance, 
habit, and prejudice. 



LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 45 

President, — Acknowledge also that you are not 
yet entirely disabused. 

M. de B. — The obstinacy of some men who per- 
sist in combating a chimera preserves for such things 
a sort of reality. As for myself, I have long regarded 
the illusion as dissipated. Reason had taught me 
that there could exist no distinctions save those which 
result from virtue, talent, or service ; a sound policy 
has since demonstrated to me that there ought not to 
exist none others. 

Citizen Nevil. — That I call reasoning from prin- 
ciple. 

President. — Without denying the consequences, 
whence has the accused derived these principles? 
From the Constitutional Assembly ? 

M. de B. — I consider it an honor to have been a 
member of that Assembly. 

President. — Did you not ever preside there ? 

M. de B. — Yes, citizen ; and at an ever memora- 
ble era. 

President. — That was after the flight of the tyrant? 

M. de B. — That was on the occasion of the jour- 
ney of Louis the XYL, to Yarennes, and on his return. 

Member. — For a bet, the citizen does not consider 
Lewis Capet to have been a tyrant. 

M. de B. — History will explain, and posterity will 
pronounce. 

Citizen Nevil. — The question here is not what citi- 
zen Beauharnais thinks, but what he has done. 

President. — Just — most just : see, we then what 

citizen Beauharnais has done. 
3* 



46 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 

M. de B. — Nothing ; and that in a distempered time, 
I conceive to be the best of all proceedings. 

President. — Thus you declared for no party ? 

M. de B. — No, if by party you mean factions which 
hate each other, rend the state and impede the reign 
of the laws, and the strengthening of the republic ; 
but yes — if by party you understand the immense 
majority of the French people who desire indepen- 
dence and liberty : of that party am I. 

A Member. — It remains to be known through what 
means of adherence ? 

M. de B. — I should prefer in order to persuade, the 
means employed by reason, to convince those of sen- 
timent, against anarchy, by turns the cause and the 
effect of factions, I nevertheless believe it is not for- 
bidden to employ force. But I require that it be used 
so as not to be abused ; that men have recourse to it 
rarely, and that they yield to humanity whatever 
they can take from severity without compromising 
the safety of the State. 

A Member^ (it was the old wretch charged with 
the arrest of my husband.) — Humanity! humanity! 
In certain mouths, such language is suspected. 

M. de B. — ^And ought to be so, if it signify pity for 
willful criminals ; but it is respectable when invoked 
in favor of experience and error. 

A Member. — Such is the tone held by all mode- 
rates. 

M. de B. — Moderation is the daughter of reason, 
and the mother of power ; why should I be violent 
and agitated, if, in a soimd state of mind, I feel my- 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 47 

self vigorous through calmness, and powerful by- 
wisdom '!■ 

Nevil. — I assure you, citizens, that neither Rous- 
seau, nor Mably, nor Montesquieu ever wrote any 
thing more sensible. 

A Member. — Who are these people? do they be- 
long to the section? 

Another Member. — Don't you see they are Feuil- 
lans ? All that has the smack of moderatism, and is 
not worth a . 

President. — You are all wrong, citizens ; these are 
authors of the reign of Louis XIV., and you may see 
their tragedies played every night at the Theatre 
Francais." 

" Here a new uproar ensued, some defending, others 
impugning, these novel discoveries in literary history. 
My husband would have smiled in derision, had he 
not sighed to think in whose hands the fate of his 
fellow-citizens had thus been placed. Nevil, by la- 
boring to bring back the debate to its proper object, 
endeavored to terminate a sitting equally painful 
and ludicrous. After some more absurd and irrele- 
vant interrogatories, the president decided for the pro- 
visional detention of Alexander. ' Time will thus be 
afforded,' so concluded his address, with revolutionary 
forethought, ' for convicting you ; and you, citizen, 
will have leisure for your defence. If you love your 
country, you can serve it as well by your resignation 
as by your activity ; and if liberty be dear to you, it 
will become much more so in a prison. Thereupon, 
I remit you, not as culpable — God forbid ! but as one 



48 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 

who may become guilty. You will be inscribed up- 
on the registers of the Luxembourg merely with this 
favorable remark ; coinmitted of being- suspected ! ' " 

Mercy was an attribute unknown except in fitful, 
momentary manifestations, with those who sat in the 
judgment seat during this frightful period. Louis of 
the Lower Rhine, who was a companion in crime and 
rank with Robespierre^ yielded to the entreaty of 
Beauharnais, and consented to a meeting of his family 
with him in prison. She received the intelligence 
with a bounding and hopeful heart, as the dawn of 
returning joy to her desolate dwelling, and hastened 
with Eugene and Hortense, to embrace the captive. 
Josephine has feelingly and most beautifully de- 
scribed the scene which followed, in a letter to her 
sympathizing aunt. 

" This has been a day at once very delightful, and 
very painful. My husband having desired to see us, 
I resolved, in order to spare their young feelings, to 
send the children first, and Nevil took charge of them 
for this purpose. They had for some time been told 
that their father, being sick, was under the care of a 
famous physician, who, on account of the salubrity 
of the air, and the spacious buildings, resided in the 
Luxembourg. The first interview passed over very 
well ; only Hortense remarked that papa's apartments 
were extremely small, and the patients very numer- 
ous. At the time I arrived they had left their father, 
a kind-hearted turnkey, gained by Nevil, having ta- 
ken the precaution to keep them removed. They 
had gone to visit in the neighboring cells, whose 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 49 

inmates were touched by their youth, their situation, 
and their ingenuousness. I dreaded the sight of our 
mutual emotion : our interview took place in their 
absence. Alexander who supports his captivity with 
courage, showed himself unable to bear up against my 
tears. Recovering myself at length, and alarmed to 
see him so greatly moved, I constrained my own sor- 
row, and endeavored in turn to soothe his. Our chil- 
dren now made their appearance. This brought on a 
new crisis, the more painful that we felt its cause 
must be dissembled. 

" Hortense, who is sincerity itself, was for long de- 
ceived, and in all the tenderness of an affectionate 
heart, wished to persuade us that we acted wrong 
in afflicting ourselves, since papa's illness was not 
dangerous. All this while poor Hortense exhibited 
that light air of incredulous hesitation which you 
know becomes her so well. ' Do you believe that 
papa is ill ? ' said she to her brother ; ' if so, at least, 
it is not the sickness which the doctors cure.' ' What 
do you mean, my dear girl,' asked I ; ' can you sup- 
pose that papa and I would contrive between us to 
deceive you ? ' ' Pardon, mamma, but I do think 
so.' 'Oh! sister,' eagerly interrupted Eugene, 'that 
is a very singular speech of yours ! ' ' On the con- 
trary,' replied she, 'it is quite simple and natural.' 
' How, miss ? ' said I, in my turn, affecting severity. 
' Unquestionably,' continued the little sly one, ' goor 
parents are permitted to deceive their children whc:. 
they wish to spare them uneasiness ; is it not so, mam- 
ma ? ' At these words, she threw herself upon my 



50 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

bosom,'ancl, putting one arm around her father's neck, 
drew him gently towards us. A smile shone through 
her tears ; and Eugene, mingling his caresses in this 
domestic scene, rendered the whole truly affecting. 
Amiable and gentle child, he shows as much single- 
ness of heart as his sister displays penetration and 
spirit. Both have hitherto formed our joy: why 
should it be, that, at this crisis, they are the cause of 
our most lively disquietudes, and occasion to me — 
to me personally, inexpressible uneasiness, which I 
am imable to subdue, and can with difficulty combat ; 
for myself I have no fear ; but for them — for Alexan- 
der, I become a very coward. 

'' In the course of the visits which my children had 
made, and from the conversations my daughter had 
collected, and overheard, she had divined that her 
father was a prisoner. We now acknowledged what 
it was no longer possible to conceal. ' And the rea- 
son?' demanded Hortense. Even her brother, less 
timid than usual, would know the motive for such 
severity. It would have been very difficult to satisfy 
them. Strange abuse of power, abused and despi- 
cable excess of tyranny, which a child has judgment 
to condemn, which all ought to possess the right to 
punish, and yet of which men dare not complain ! 

" 'Oh,' cried Hortense, 'when we are able, we will 
punish your accusers.' 'Hush my child,' said her fa- 
ther, 'were you to be overheard speaking thus, I should 
be ruined, as well as yourself and your mother ; while 
we would not then enjoy the consolation of being pre- 
sented altogether unjustly.' 'Have you not often ex- 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 51 

plained to us,' remarked Eugene, ' that it is lawful 
to resist oppression ? ' 'I repeat the same sentiment 
once more,' replied my husband ; ' but prudence 
ought to accompany resistance ; and he who would 
overcome tyranny, must be careful not to put the 
tyrant on his guard.' 

"By degrees the conversation assumed a less serious 
turn. We forgot the present misfortune to give our- 
selves up to soft remembrances and future plans. 
You will readily conceive that in these latter you 
were far from being overlooked. 

" ' I wish every possible happiness to my aunt,' said 
Alexander, laughing ; ' nevertheless as the Nine are 
said never to be so interesting as when they are afflict- 
ed, I would beseech just a few days' captivity for my 
aunt's nurse ; a fine elegy would doubtless be the re- 
sult, and the glory of the poetess, by immortalizing 
her prison would prove ample consolation for having 
inhabited one.' What say you to the wish, my dear 
aunt ? " 

While that parental training developed in this sim- 
ple narrative, which in any emergency finds false- 
hood an auxiliary, may be as questionable as the 
counsel of the French nobleman to his wife, urging 
the necessity of teaching his sons fashionable oaths 
as a preventive to lying ; Josephine, evidently impart- 
ed elevated sentiments to her children, which were en- 
forced by their unfortunate father, and sealed with 
his blood. 

The very expressions of patriotism, and hostility to 
despotism, which were exchanged in this domestic 



dZ LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 

group, were overheard by the spies of the Convention, 
and reported to the "man-slayer," who guided its 
" infernal machinery." The severities which marked 
the treatment of prisoners were increased— closer con- 
finement required, and life soon lavished in atone- 
ment for the kindness of delay. In another commu- 
nication to her relative, Josephine writes, — 

" I must now my esteemed aunt, collect all my for- 
titude to inform you of the catastrophe which has just 
befallen us ; you will need the whole of yours to sus- 
tain the recital. The observations made by my hus- 
band to his children, and which I transmitted, will 
not have escaped you. ^ It is permitted,' such were 
his words to Eugene, ' it is even a duty to resist op- 
pression ; but prudence ought to direct force, and he 
who would subvert or subdue tyranny must beware 
of disclosing his designs.' To explain to you how 
these words, which we conceived were heard by our- 
selves alone, reached the ears of spies, would be diffi- 
cult for me ; and now that I reflect upon the circum- 
stance, the disclosure appears still more mysterious. 
At first we suspected Nevil ; but you will conceive 
with what indignation against ourselves we repelled 
a suspicion which, for the moment, forced itself upon 
our alarmed fancy. One of the saddest miseries of 
adversity is, that it renders men unjust, awakening 
doubts of the sincerity of friendship, so rarely given 
to misfortune. In thinking the best of the conduct of 
that excellent young man I did well ; for it is still 
through his means that I am able to transmit you 
the following details : — I am thus completely igno- 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 63 

rant by whom or in what manner we have been 
betrayed. 

"As soon as the Revohitionary Committee had 
knowledge of my poor Alexander's remark, they in- 
tercepted all communication between him and the 
other prisoners ; and, which has thrown us into 
greater consternation still, between him and his fam- 
ily. On the morrow he was shut up in his chamber, 
which fortunately opens upon a small corridor com- 
municating with a second apartment, at present un- 
occupied, an arrangement which, hitherto miobserved, 
triples the space for exercise. Two days after, the 
doors were thrown open, and he received the very un- 
expected visit of a member of the Committee of Gen- 
eral Safety. The visitor was Vadier, his colleague in 
the Constitutional Assembly, a gray-headed, suspi- 
cious ruffian, who follows the dictates of habitual 
misanthrophy, and with' whom suspicions are equiva- 
lent to proofs. In the tone assumed with my hus- 
band, the latter instantly recognized prejudice and 
personal hatred, and shrunk from penetrating far- 
ther. As for myself, the bare idea causes me to shud- 
der, and were I to dwell upon the thought for a mo- 
ment, I feel that terror would freeze my heart. 

" ' Without inquiring,' answered Alexander, ' by 
what means you have discovered my thoughts, I am 
very far from disavowing the maxim which you re- 
peat after me, or the principles you attribute to me. 
Is not the entire theory of the Revolution compre- 
hended in these ideas ? do they not teach a doctrine 
which its friends have reduced to practice ? are not 



54 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

these principles yours also ? ' 'All that I grant,' re- 
plied Vadier ; ' but times, places, persons, change all ; 
and a truth of this nature, admirable as it may be in 
speculation, becomes a dagger when men know not 
how to use it ; it is a two-edged weapon, which we 
have done well in directing against the enemies of lib- 
erty : but if it so happen that those who have been 
wounded, though not prostrated, essay to turn it against 
the defenders of freedom, if, in such a retrograde and 
criminal movement, they Avere guided by one of those 
arms which had combated them, and which in pro- 
tecting them to-day, desired to avenge their wounds 
of the past, say, would such a one be guiltless ? would 
the intentions he obeyed be pure ? or, could too great 
severity be exercised to prevent the effect rather than 
have to punish the consequences ? ' 'In these danger- 
ous and forced deductions,' answered M. de B., 'I re- 
cognize the doctrine of your master. Under deceitful 
hypotheses you may base at will the scaffolding of 
any proposition, however absurd ; and arguing from 
the possible to the positive, you deliver the innocent 
to punishment, as the means of preventing them from 
guilt.' ' Whoever is suspected,' was the atrocious re- 
ply, ' deserA^es suspicion.' ' Speak more honestly at 
once,' replied your nephew : ' whoever is innocent soon 
falls under suspicion ; and, once suspected, he per- 
ishes ; if it be imagined that his innocence may waver, 
you quickly punish him as criminal.' ' You press the 
consequences rather from feeling than reason,' re- 
turned Vadier ; ' we designate and treat as criminal, 
him only who impedes or corrupts the principles of 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 66 

the Revolution. Would you have spoken out had not 
the anti-revolutionary doctrines, in despite of us, and 
even without our knowledge refncted you ? Wo to 
the guilty, who compromise themselves.' ' Wo, rath- 
er,' cried my husband, ' wo to those tyrants who ex- 
plain, or rather who mystify, by an insiduous and 
crafty sophistry, their system of manslaughter ! Ave 
may easily put aside the thrust which is aimed at us 
in honest hostility ; and, as the President du Harley 
remarks, a mighty space interposes between the heart 
of the good man and the poniard of the miscreant. 
But how avoid the stab made in darkness ? there is 
no remedy ; we must be silent and bare the throat.' 
At these words, which I much blame, the old Presi- 
dent of the General Safety Committee left the prison ; 
and Nevilj who had been listening in the corridor, im- 
agined he remarked in his naturally stern countenance 
an indescribable expression of the most sinister import. 
I shall keep you daily informed of the consequences 
of this affair, which fills me with inexpressible alarm." 
The horizon now blackened aromid De Beauhar- 
nais, and his hunted family — the fatal bolt was aimed 
with relentless and murderous decision of purpose at 
another warm and manly heart, whose ebbing cur- 
rent would honor the soil it baptized, and like that of 
the first martyr, cry to Heaven against 

"Man's inhumanity to man;" 

whether in the sceptred homicide, or as now, a flagi- 
tious mob, apothesizing liberty while trampling on her 
sacred form. The fearful authority of Robespierre, was 



56 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 



at this stage of revolutionary progress, shaken, and he 
entered upon the desperate struggle to regain his 
vanishing and terrible greatness. The reactiSt 
against the monster of crime, was encouraged by 
Callot d'Herbois, Tallien, Ban^as and others who fig- 
ured as chiefs in the events which preceded the 27th 
July, 1794 ; and the vigilance and activity of Robes- 
pierre's emissaries proportionally increased. 

When, therefore, a pretext was found to excite the 
popular feeling more intensely against the " captive 
aristocracy," so that the trembling demon of the 
fierce commotion, and his subordinate spirits might 
dispose of their foes with the guillotine, it was im- 
proved with cowardly haste. 

Soon after the interesting scene in the cell of Beau- 
harnais, the revolutionary newspapers came out with 
flaming editorials upon the "grand conspiracy dis- 
covered in the house of seclusion at the Luxem- 
bourg ; " and with the assurance that the argus-eyed 
administration would penetrate the terrible plot, 
threatened the summary punishment, which too 
quickly followed. 

Nevil, the youth who in disguise attempted to save 
de Beauharnais, exhibiting a singular attachment to 
the unfortunate general he aided officially to imprison, 
was now arrested, and conveyed with inquisitorial 
secrecy to his place of confinement. Then the 
"Committee" entered the sanctuary of home, en- 
deavoring to extort from childhood, evidence of pa- 
rental guilt. The description as given by Josephine, 
makes the contemplative reader pause with painful 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE, 57 

emotions over the public and domestic tragedies of a 
" Republic," which poured the crimson tide of human 
Me in sluices along the streets — and instead of the 
Genius of Liberty, was guarded by atheistical baccha- 
nals, grasping the dripping blade of the assassin. 

Josephine to Madam Fanny de Beauharnais. 
" Will you believe it, my dear aunt ? My children 
have just undergone a long and minute examination ! 
That wretched old man, member of the committee, 
and whom I have repeatedly named to you, intro- 
duced himself into my house ; and under pretence of 
feeling interested in my husband, and of entertaining 
me, set my poor ones a talking. I confess that at first 
I was completely thrown off my guard by this strat- 
agem ; only I could not help wondering at the affa- 
bility of such a personage. Innate guile, however, 
soon betrayed itself when the children replied in terms 
whence it was impossible to extort the least implica- 
tion against their unfortunate parents. Thus I speed- 
ily detected the deceit. When he perceived I had 
penetrated his craft, he ceased to feign, and declaring 
that he had been charged with obtaining from my 
children information so much the more certain as 
being ingenuous, he proceeded to interrogate them in 
form. Upon this avowal, I was sensible of an inex- 
pressible revulsion taking place within me ; I felt that 
I grew pale with affright — that I now reddened with 
anger — now trembled with indignation. 1 was on the 
point of expressing to this hoary revolutionist the loath- 
ing with which he inspired me, when the thought 
arose that I might thus do injury to my husband, 



58 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

against whom this execrable man shows inveterate 
enmity ; then I repressed my resentment in sile^^ 
Upon his desiring to be left alone with my little o^^ 
I felt again the spirit of resistance rising within me; 
but such ferocity appeared in his looks that I was con- 
strained to obey. 

" Having locked up Hortense in a closet, he com- 
menced by questioning her brother. When my daugh- 
ter's turn came, oh, how I trembled on perceiving the 
length to which her examination extended ! for our 
inquisitor had not failed to remark in the dear girl an 
acuteness and penetration far beyond her years. Af- 
ter sounding them as to our conservations, our opin- 
ions, the visits and letters which we received, and es- 
pecially on the actions which they might have wit- 
nessed, he broached the capital question, namely, the 
discourse held with their father in prison. My chil- 
dren, each in character answered excellently well, and 
spite the subtlety of the wretch, who wished to find 
guilt, the sound understanding of my son and the intel- 
ligent address of his sister, disconcerted, if they were 
not able to confound, the knavery. What consequen- 
ces will they extort from an examination such as 
truth dictates to lips that are guileless? It can re- 
dound only to the triumph of innocence and the shame 
of its accusers : will they dare to produce it, if thence 
arise this two-fold check ? 

" Still the same silence concerning the unfortunate 
Nevil. Notwithstanding my repugnance, I have de- 
cided on requesting an audience of a member of the 
Committee of General Safety, Louis, (deputy of the 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 59 

Lower Rhine) of whom report speaks less unfavora- 
bly than of his colleagues. Your nephew has ex- 
pressly prohibited me from seeing these men, whom he 
regards as the assassins of our country ; but he has 
not forbidden me to solicit from gratitude, and in fa- 
vor of friendship. Had he done so, I could almost 
have dared to disobey the injunction. I hold the un- 
grateful in horror, and certainly shall never increase 
their number." 

She was successful in her application — Louis gain- 
ed for her access to the prison-police, and through 
him to Prosper Sigas, whose decision completed the 
formalities of admission. The frightful disclosures 
which were made there, in the loathsome dungeons of 
innocence, reminded one of the gloomy "slave-ship," 
whose rayless hold of sullen wretches was at length 
opened to the light of day, and the groans heard, 
which were for centuries wasted on the solitude of the 
ocean. She graphically portrays some of those hor- 
rors, whose gigantic sepulchre under the old order of 
things, was the ancient Bastile, swept away by the 
revolutionary storm. The letter is addressed to 

Madam Fanny Beauharnais. 
"Louis, the deputy of the Lower Rhine, whom I 
just saw for a moment, appeared to me not without 
some good, and I believe him not insensible. The 
accents of pity seem to find his heart not inacces- 
sible. He does not repel misfortune, nor add bitter- 
ness to the reproaches wrung from grief; but those 
qualities precisely which recommend him to the op- 
pressed, become vices and lessen his influence with 



60 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

the oppressors. He enjoys little credit ; and after 
hearing my petition, could do nothing therein directly, 
but introduced me to his colleague, who is cha:flpl 
with the police of the prisoners. The latter, with 
malice in his look, and mockery on his tongue, com- 
plimented me ironically upon the interest I expressed 
in Nevil's fate. 'The cord wain er,' said the ruffian, 
' is a vigorous and handsome youth : it is quite as 
it should be for him to be protected by a woman who 
is young and handsome also. If she now manifest 
sensibility, the time may come when he will be able 
to show his gratitude. As to the matter in hand, 
however, his examination being finished, his afiair is 
no longer a concern of mine. You must therefore 
transport yourself into the office of citizen Prosper Si- 
gas, who, if so disposed, may grant you the required 
permission. You may say that I recommend him to 
be yielding, for it is really a sin to keep so long sepa- 
rated from each other, two young people who only 
ask to be reunited.' 

" After these impertinences, to which I deigned no 
reply, the fellow gave me a card to the functionary 
whom he had just named. Oh ! as for this latter, he 
proved quite another sort of person : to my delight 
and great astonishment, I found in M. Sigas all the 
urbanity desirable in a man of the world, joined to 
that knowledge of detail which we have a right to 
expect in a public officer. He informed me, that not- 
withstanding a first examination, citizen Nevil still 
remained in the depot of the committee of General 
Security. ' As it is supposed,' continued my inform- 



LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 61 

ant, ' that he has disclosures to make, it has been 
judged fit to place him there, that he may be forth- 
coming when wanted. I am sorry for it, first on his 
own account, and next on yours, madam, whose inter- 
est he appears so fortunate as to have excited. There 
is your permission to communicate with him; you 
will observe that it authorizes these communications 
only in the presence of a witness ; but this postscript 
which I add, gives the pov/er to render the witness 
invisible if circumstances permit; or, if not, makes 
him blind and deaf Avow, my beloved aunt, that 
though now misplaced,- it would not be easy to find 
a more amiable personage than M. Prosper Sigas, 

^^ From the officers of the committee I descended to 
the Hotel de Brionne, under the gate of which the 
depot is situated. You will have difficulty in believ- 
ing that neglect, or rather atrocity, could be carried 
so far as to establish this depot in a subterranean pas- 
sage, narrow, dark, receiving through grated loop- 
holes a struggling and doubtful light, and which, in 
close contact with a public sewer, has, upon the 
roof, the channels of wells constantly in use. Li 
this damp, gloomy, and infected hole are to be found, 
by tens and twelves, huddled into spaces of fifteen 
feet square, captives miknown to each other, and 
without other bed than a few boards raised some 
thirty inches from the floor, spreading mutual infec- 
tion from their bodies, while they envenom the evils 
of their minds by dreadful confidences. Here groaned 
Nevil, when to his great astonishment, he was called 
out, and recognized me with lively satisfaction. It 



62 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

is quite true that he has been examined, but less upon 
what concerns my husband than upon what passed 
at the Luxembourg. He is prepared for new trials." 

Robespierre, though a man of ordinary powers, and 
by nature a coward, besides exercising with energy 
that paralyzed the nation, the might of brute force, 
displayed tact in the management of that horrible en- 
ginery, which shook the kingdoms of Europe. When 
he beheld symptoms of a reaction involving the de- 
cline of his demoniac authority, like a lion crouching 
before the hunted prey he would beguile to his lair, 
he affected a lenity, against which his bitter spirit 
chafed with hidden passion, that waited only the 
opportunity to send forth its volcanic fires. He gave 
more latitude to the press, and permitted debate — ■ 
apologizing with apparent regret for the enormities 
committed, while all the time, heads were rolling 
upon the scaffold, beneath the axe whose fatal stroke^ 
fell like the steady beat of a machine for perpetual 
motion, until action Avore out its iron heart. 

He began to read in the lurid glare of the meteor 
of his fame, which had culminated upon a sky robed 
with sackcloth, and red with the smoke of slaughter, 
the despairing looks of millions, and caught the mur- 
mur of the angry deep, his trident had ruled too long. 
His mercy was in vain, only as it threw a pleasant 
illusion upon hearts like Josephine's, tortured with 
suspense, and clinging to the object of affection. His 
cup of trembling was well nigh full — the corsair of 
the wrathful billows, was already reeling in the circles 
of the vortex awaiting it. 



CHAPTER III. 

Josephine undeceived.— Her Arrest. — Description of the Scene. — Thb 
Prison. — Hortense and Eugene.— Josephine's composure.— Her kind- 
ness TO THE prisoners. — CORRESPONDENCE WITH BEAUHARNAIS RENEWED. 

—Romantic Story. — Prison Horrors. — Beauharnais' interest in thb 

YOUNG MANIAC. — RETURNING HOPE. — LeVITY OF PRISONERS.— JoSEPHINE'S 
MATERNAL CHARACTER.— ROBESPIERRE'S POLICY.— THE INTERPOSITION OP 

Friends. — Josephine's appeal to Sigas.— Result. — Meeting of Beau 

HARNAIS AND JOSEPHINE. — CRISIS IN DESTINY.— LAST HOURS OP BEAUHAR 

NAis. — His Execution. — Relics unexpectedly received by Josephine 
— Her Distress and Danger.— Cheered by the prophecy op Euphemia 
— Circumstances of Robespierre's Death. — Liberation of Josephine 
— Interest in her Children. — Famine. — Domestic Suffering. — Survey 
OF the Revolution.— Beauharnais Family towards the close of the 
YEAR 1795. 

During the interlude of hope, Josephine wrote to 
her husband, breathing encouragement and the affec- 
tion of a true woman's heart in every hue. She re- 
ferred to a pamphlet which about this time appeared, 
condemning the severity of the Committee, and inti- 
mating a restoration of ancient customs, written by 
Desmoulins, himself soon after a victim to the ven- 
geance of the chief, who permitted him to write and 
live no longer than might subserve his designs. 

The infidelity of Robespierre also, it seems about 
this time, assumed the phase of Deism ; which she 
regarded as indicative of slumbering humanity awak- 
ing to activity. But Beauharnais understood the Rev- 



-y^4 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE, 

olutioii better than his faithful wife, and discerned 
beneath a seeming tranquihty, the unsubdued ele- 
ments, whose open war would soon again pour their 
fury upon the heads of those enrolled on the list of 
proscription or suspicion. He replied to her note of 
gratulation in the following emphatic language. 

De Beauharnais to Josephine. 
" My poor friend, what an error is thine ! Hope 
deludes you ; but in the times wherein we live hope 
disappoints and betrays. I have read with attention 
the work of Desmoulins : it is the production of an 
honest man, but a dupe. He wrote, you say, to the 
dictation of Robespierre : it is probable ; but after hav- 
ing urged him thus far, the tyrant will sacrifice him. 
I know that determined man : he will not retreat be- 
fore any difficulty ; and, to secure the triumph of his 
detestable system, he will even, if need be, play the 
part of a man of feeling. Robespierre, in the con- 
viction of his pride, believes himself called to regen- 
erate France ; and his views are short-sighted, and 
his heart cold ; he conceives of radical regeneration 
only as a washing in blood. It is the easiest mode 
of reform, for the victims are penned, and the butcher 
has merely to extend his hand, and drag them to the 
slaughter-house. Some, however, before expiring, had 
raised a cry of lamentation, and this note the credu- 
lous Camile is employed to repeat, in order to try con- 
clusions with opinion. Whatever may be his object, 
it will incur opposition, which will be wrested by 
the tyrant into a cause for the sacrifice of new vic- 
tims. Such is the grand outline of his policy. 



LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 65 

"I grieve, my dear Josephine, to destroy your 
heart's illusion ; but how can I entertain it, who have 
viewed too closely the manoeuvres of tyranny ? When 
we are unable to oppose to despotism a power capa- 
ble of crushing it, there remains but one possibility 
of resistance, namely, to receive its inflictions with a 
virtue which may cover it with dishonor. Those 
who come after us will at least profit by our example, 
and the legacy of the proscribed will not be lost to 
humanity." 

Scarcely had Josephine perused these warnings of 
impending danger, before they proved to be the toc- 
sin of a darker calamity, that brought her beneath the 
very shadow of the guillotine. She was thrown into 
prison, where entire families were pining in unpitied 
wretchedness, a fate which she might have anticipa- 
ted long before, but for a soul buoyant and hopeful, 
and fall of that kindness which '' thinketh no evil." 
Her disinterested devotion to her family, appears finely 
in the letter written immediately after the sad event. 
How sweetly Hortense returns a mother's love, and 
even in her dreams directs the weary spirit to the 
only source of help and composure amid the beatings 
of the tempest. 

Josephine to Madam F. Beauharnais. 
'' I commence this letter at a venture, and without 
knowing if it will reach you. On Tuesday last, Ne- 
vil's mother entered my apartment with an air of 
anxiety, and even grief, on her countenance. My 
mind reverted to her son. ' I do not weep for him,' 
said the good woman, sobbing aloud as she spoke ; 



66 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

' though he be in secret confinement, I have no fears 
for his Hfe ; he belongs to a class whose members are 
pardoned, or rather overlooked ; others are more ex- 
posed.' ' Others ! ' Instantly my thoughts were at 
the Luxembourg. 'Has Alexander been called be- 
fore the tribunal ? ' exclaimed I ! 'Be comforted, the 
viscount is well.' I could then think of no one for 
whom to feel alarm. The kind-hearted creature pro- 
ceeded, with many precautions, to inform me that she 
alluded to myself I immediately became tranquil. 
After having trembled for all that we love, my God ! 
how delightful to have to fear only for one's self ! 

" Yesterday morning I received an anonymous let- 
ter, advertising me of danger. I could have fled ; but 
whither retire without compromising my husband? 
Decided thus to await the storm, I sat down with my 
children, and in their innocent caresses could almost 
have forgotten my misfortunes, if their very presence 
had not more forcibly recalled the absence of their 
father. Sleep stole them from my arms, which at 
such a moment folded them, as if instinctively, in a 
more tender embrace. Alas ! the love which unites a 
mother to her offspring has its superstitions also ; and 
I know not what invincible presentiment overcame 
me with vague terror. Judge, if, thus left quite alone, 
I could banish this painful sentiment. Yet Heaven 
is witness, that the three cherished beings who consti- 
tute my whole happiness, occasion likewise my sole 
pain. How think of myself when they are threatened ? 

" I continued plunged in these reflections, when a 
loud knocking was heard at the outer door of the 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 67 

house. I perceived that my hour was come, and, 
finding the requisite courage in the very conscious- 
ness that the blow was inevitable, I resigned myself 
to endurance. While the tumult continued increas- 
ing, I passed into my children's apartment ; they 
slept! and their peaceful slumber, contrasted with 
their mother's trouble, made me weep. I im.prcEsed 
upon my daughters forehead, alas ! perhaps my last 
kiss ; she felt the maternal tears, and though still 
asleep, clasped her arms round my neck, whispering, 
in broken murmurs, 'Come to bed, fear nothing; they 
shall not take you away this night. I have prayed 
to God for you.' 

'' Meanwhile, a crowd had entered my sitting-room, 
and there, at the head of ferocious and armed men, I 
found the same president already named, whom very 
weakness renders inhuman, and whose sloth favors his 
prepositions against the accused. These prejudices, 
so far as concerned me, were deemed by him sufii- 
cient warranty for my arrest ; without examination, 
as without probability, I saw that he firmly believed 
in what atrocious ignorance has termed the conspiracy 
of the Luxembourg. I spare you needless details ; 
already have I been forced to impart too many sad 
ones. Let it suffice to know, that seals being placed 
upon every article with lock and key, I was con- 
ducted to the house of detention at the Carmelites. 
Oh, what shudderings came over me on crossing that 
threshhold, still humid with blood ! Ah ! my beloved 
aunt, for what outrages are not those men prepared who 
did not punish the execrable crimes committed here ! " 



68 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

Josephine's prison " at the Carmehtes," was a con- 
vent distinguished in the Reign of Terror, for its heca- 
tortihs of the eight thousand slain during four days of 
execution at the hands of an infatuated mob. Gloomy 
days ! when icomen rolled their sleeves for human 
butcheryj and smiled at the havoc which drenched 
the dungeon-floor with blood, and awakened the per- 
petual and dismal echoes of dying agony. 

We can hardly appreciate the heroism of character 
which sustained this fair victim, away from every 
pleasant association, and surrounded with the stains 
of that general assassination ; while her husband and 
offspring were at the mercy of excited enemies. How 
marvelous often the diiFerent phases of destiny ! A 
dismal, bloody cell, and a dazzling throne — such the 
v/ords that might have been traced in the crimson 
mould upon those dreary walls, as a brief memoir of 
the captive. 

Hortense and Eugene left alone in the solitude of a 
great city, which heeded not the friendless and suffer- 
ing, were thrown upon their youthful resources for 
escape from their night of desolation. A reckless 
crowd and the prison-pile were near — the mansion of 
the benevolent Madam F. Beauharnais in the distance 
— the prospect of access to either seemed equally hope- 
less. But never does the influence of early culture 
appear more decidedly than in circumstances like 
these ; vv^hen the want of experience and mature 
judgement, throws the mind back upon the counsels 
of parental love. After various devices, they enlisted 
the mother of Nevil in their behalf; she transmitted 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 69 

intelligence of their unnatural orphanage to the ami- 
able relative residing in the country, who soon con- 
veyed them to her domain. Josephine was immedi- 
ately informed of their safety, as the following extract 
from a letter to a lady in London, pleasantly shows, 
while it indicates also a sensible view of life, and a 
sublime calmness of spirit. 

" Let me place before you, my dear friend, two con- 
trasts, which we but seldom remark, though they 
present themselves every day ; and of which I have 
a fancy to talk with you for a moment. Good news, 
last evening, of my children— to-day, hopes in my 
husband's affairs : what more favorable to appetite, 
to sleep, and to good-humor 1 Thus, mine is not so 
very sour ; and that it may become altogether agree- 
able, I set about writing to you. 

" You are young, rich, handsome, witty, adored by 
an amiable husband, and courted by a circle where 
your talents are applauded and enjoyed ; why, then, 
are you not happy? I possess little fortune, still 
less beauty, no pretentions, few hopes ; how then 
am I able to taste some felicity? Grave philoso- 
phers might perhaps enter into lengthy discussion, 
in order to resolve the question. The problem would 
become still more complicated were I to add — the one 
lives in the land of independence and of liberty — 
yet she weeps : the other vegetates in a region of ser- 
vitude — and, though in prison, is yet tranquil. To ex- 
plain this diversity, by difference of characters is rather 
to postpone the explanation than to remove the diffi- 
culty ; for whence arises the difference of character 7 
4* 



70 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

"My dear Clara obeys the impulse of her heart 
when she recounts to me sorrows which she exag- 
gerates : I, on my part, yield to the dictates of mine 
while entertaining her with what another would call 
pains, but which two days of slight hope, springing 
up once more in my breast, has transformed into 
pleasures. 

" Know you, my beloved friend, what it is that in 
a place such as this, creates unceasingly those pleas- 
ures which are almost always soothing, sometimes 
even positive happiness ? — two trifling combinations 
which concurred fortuitously, namely, a parody of 
life in the great world, and the simplicity of private 
retirement. 

" Among the hundred and sixty captives composing 
our establishment, five or six private societies have 
been formed through resemblance of individual opin- 
ions and character. Some others there are, still more 
closely associated by the most tender affections, and 
these, isolated and silent, mix little with the pleasures 
of the rest, which they never disturb. As for me, in- 
dependently of a number of acquaintances and friends 
whom I have recovered, I see every body and every 
where meet with hearts to console and misfortunes in 
which to sympathize. This reminds me that you, 
my dear Clara, believe yourself to be among the un- 
fortunate, and under that title have a right to what I 
lavish upon others. To-day, however, you shall have 
no consolation beyond the certainty of an approaching 
melioration in my destiny. Is not that sufficient to 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 71 

render yours happy, at least for some moments ? Need 
I assure you of my participation in your afflictions, 
imaginary though they be ? and know you not, that 
while you suffer I suffer also 7 The greatest of all 
misfortunes is to doubt that which we love to think 
true, and such sorrow at least we shall never experi- 
ence, so far as depends upon each other. Adieu, my 
friend. Courage ! Must that word be pronounced 
by her who languishes in prison ? Ought she not 
rather to preserve for herself the exhortations which 
she sends to you ? My children are well — De Beau- 
harnais' affair assumes a more favorable turn — why, 
then, should my fortitude fail ? Once more, adieu." 

Josephine by acts of kindness and looks of sympa- 
thy towards those confined with her, won that affec- 
tion cherished by all who came within the circle of 
influence, which like a charmed atmosphere always 
attended her. There was a graceful freedom from all 
ostentation of manner, that made her attentions doubly 
grateful to the suffering — and a true feminine deli- 
cacy of feeling, which rendered her conversation 
charming to the humblest admirer. 

Correspondence Avas permitted under inspection, 
between her and Beauharnais, through the faithful 
Nevil who had obtained his liberty. She describes 
with great simplicity, an affair of romantic interest 
connected with her prison friends, and sketches viv- 
idly the sanguinary events that might have filled the 
imagination of a superstitious person, Avith a thousand 
ghostly visions, and unearthly sounds of anguish and 
imprecation. 



72 life op josephine. 

Josephine to Beauharnais. 

" You have not forgotten the unfortunate village 
maiden in the environs of Kouen, who being aban- 
doned by her lover, became insane, and wandered 
about the highways, inquiring of every traveler con- 
cerning her ungrateful seducer. The good Marsol- 
lier caused us to shed many tears when he related 
some years ago the misfortunes of the poor, forsaken 
maniac ; and our amiable Dalayrac has rendered 
them familiar to the public ear by verses which will 
not soon be forgotten. Well, my friend, there is in 
this house a youth, who, with even greater propriety 
than Nina, might become the hero of a drama. He 
is an English boy, named Tommy. The fatal con- 
sequences of an unfortunate passion have often been 
to be deplored, which, by depriving the hapless suf- 
ferer of reason, takes away all feeling of sorrow ; but 
the sentiment of gratitude is rarely so profound as to 
produce the same effect. The wretched Tommy is a 
touching example of the excess of an affection of 
v/hich much is said, but little felt. This history 
struck me as so interesting that I resolved to send you 
the relation. Your heart will appreciate the simple 
recital ; and, by occupying you for a few minutes 
w^ith the sorrows of others, I shall beguile you from 
your own. To lament over our species, to give tears 
to their griefs, is, alas ! the sole distinction vouchsafed 
in a season of trial. 

'^ A respectable priest of St. Sulpice had conceived 
an affection for Tommy, and bestowed upon him the 
principles of a christian education : I say christian, in 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE, 7^3 

the full extent of the word ; for the worthy Abbe Cap- 
deville, equally tolerant as pious, made the youth his 
pupil only, nor once thought of rendering him his 
proselyte ; persuaded that religion in a pure mind 
will insinuate itself gently by example, and can never 
be prescribed as maxims. Those which he inculca- 
ted upon Tommy were drawn from a universal char- 
ity, of which he exhibited meanwhile an affecting 
example in his own practice. A witness of numerous 
benefactions, distributed with no less kindness than 
discernment. Tommy could not doubt that the first 
foundation of religion is to be laid in charity. He was 
in like manner convinced that indulgence and tolera- 
tion must have been ordained by God, whom he be- 
held so well manifested in the benevolent Abbe. This 
priest reserved . for himself nothing beyond the sim- 
plest necessaries : lavish towards others, he refused 
to himself whatever could not be regarded as indis- 
pensable at an age so advanced as his. The calm- 
ness and placidity of his countenance testified that 
his heart had ever been tranquil. Never did a shade 
appear on his visage, save when he found it impossi- 
ble to be of service to a brother, or soothe the remorse 
of a guilty conscience. 

" Tommy, gifted with quick penetration and lively 
sensibility, conceived for his benefactor an attachment 
so much the more ardent that he had previously never 
known any one to love ! He had been deprived of a 
mother's tenderness before he could feel his loss ; and 
he was not more than eight years old when Providence 
threw him in the way of this protecting angel. An 



-74 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 



orphan, forsaken by all the world, he had been re- 
ceived, brought up, and educated by M. Capdeville. 
To obey the latter appeared so delightful to him, that 
he succeeded in all things ; it sufficed that his father 
—for so the boy named the good priest — directed him 
to do anything, in which case an indefatigable perse- 
verance enabled him to surmount every difficulty. 
This amiable and excellent youth displayed a remark- 
able aptitude for music. His voice, harmonious, 
though not brilliant, accorded with several different 
instruments ; and his daily progress on the harp per- 
mitted the anticipation that, by-and-by, he would be 
able to impart to others what he himself so well knew. 
M. Capdeville being a man of great learning, received 
as pupils the children of several distinguished profes- 
sors, who in turn, took pleasure in teaching the pro- 
tege of their friend. Thus, without expending what 
he conceived to be the property of the poor, the worthy 
man found means of procuring the best masters for 
his dear Tommy ; and so modest himself in every 
thing personal, he enjoyed with pride, the success of 
this child of his adoption. Alas! the happiness 
which he thus experienced was destined to be of short 
duration ! 

" The consequences of the fatal 10th of August, 
crowded the prisons with almost every priest who 
had not taken the constitutional oaths. The Abbe 
Capdeville, persuaded that churchmen ought to obey 
the powers that be, according to the precepts of the 
gospel, had given the required pledges, and submit- 
ting, if not in heart, at least to authority, had conse- 



LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 75 

quently no reason to fear any measure against him- 
self. But how abandon the venerable Archbishop of 
Aries, his diocesan and constant patron ? In conse- 
quence of this devotedness, the revolutionists of the 
section, who had seen, and wished to see, only an ac- 
complice in a grateful friend, pronounced his im- 
prisonment in the Carmelites. Here, some days af- 
terward, by various means, and after much diffi- 
culty. Tommy contrived to join his benefactor ; for, 
at a time when a word, a look even, sufficed to plunge 
the individual into a dungeon, the poor youth was 
denied the privilege, which he solicited with ardor, of 
serving in his turn the old man who had watched 
over his childhood. The heartless men who refused 
for sometime his request, termed their denial a favor, 
while it was but cruelty. One of the members, who 
had formerly been under obligations to M. Capdeville, 
at length obtained an order, and Tommy, to his inex- 
pressible joy, was shut up with his benefactor. 

"I wish to spare you my friend, the description 
which has since been given me of the horrible mas- 
sacre which took place on the 2d of September in this 
prison — a spot forever memorable by reason of the 
sublime resignation of the numerous victims there sac- 
rij&ced. The chapel was particularly selected by the 
murderers as the scene of death for the clergy. They 
seemed to have been dragged thither in order that 
their last look might rest upon Him who, persecuted 
like His servants, had taught them to forgive ; and 
the last sighs of these unfortunate men respired in 
feeble hymns of praise. They were actually praying 



76 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

for their assassins when the frantic mob burst into the 
sacred place ! The Archbishop of Aries, seated in a 
chair on account of his great age, was giving his last 
benediction to his kneeling companions ; Capdeville, 
on his knees also, was reciting the prayers for those 
in peril — the responses within were given as from a 
choir of martyrs, and without, in the savage vocifera- 
tions of a furious crowd eager to shed blood ! 

*' Tommy, dreadfully agitated, traversed the whole 
building, in every sense of the word, stopping in order 
to listen, weeping at intervals, and uttering mournful 
cries. Some neighbors, whom a courageous pity had 
emboldened to enter, wished to save him and favored 
his escape ; but returning to his master, or rather friend, 
he took a station by his side, and refused to be sepa- 
rated from him. The ruffians, having forced open the 
door, and broken the windows, penetrated by several 
points at once : the pavements of the chapel, and the 
steps of the sanctuary, were speedily inundated with 
blood. Capdeville, struck immediately after the Bish- 
op, fell at his feet, and extending a mangled hand to 
Tommy, expired as he looked upon him. That look 
was a last blessing. 

''Already the poor youth, or rather child — for he is 
not yet sixteen, exhibited unequivocal symptoms of 
alienation of mind ; on the death of his friend a fixed 
insanity appeared. The unfortunate Abbe, who had 
knelt apart from the companions of his martyrdom, 
having been engaged in officiating, had fallen with his 
head supported on the upper step of the altar, and his 
body extended across the others ; the left hand was 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 77 

pressed against the heart, and the right, as I have al- 
ready said, extended towards his pupil. Tlie blow that 
had deprived him of life had been so rapid in its opera- 
tion, that death had not effaced his habitual expres- 
sion of benevolence which lightened his placid counte- 
nance. He seemed to smile and slumber ; by some 
change in the reasoning faculties. Tommy became con- 
vinced that his friend slept. Instantly as if by enchant- 
ment, the scene of slaughter disappeared from before 
his vision ; he knelt down by the side of the bleeding 
corpse, waiting its awaking. After three hours of 
watching, and as the sun sank beneath the horizon, 
Tommy went to seek his harp, and again sat down 
beside the remains of his friend, playing melancholy 
airs, in order to hasten his awaking, which appeared 
to him to be long in taking place. While thus em- 
ployed, sleep stole over his own frame, and the chari- 
table hands which removed from the despoilers the 
bodies of the martyrs, carried away Tommy, and laid 
him on his bed. There he remained eight-and-forty 
hours in a kind of lethargy, whence, however, he 
awoke, with all the appearances of soundness of body 
and mind. But, if health had been restored, reason 
had fled forever. 

" In commiseration of his pious madness, a free asy- 
lum has been granted to him in this house, where he 
passes the day in silence till each afternoon at three 
o'clock. The moment that hour strikes. Tommy, who 
ordinarily walks slowly, runs to seek his harp, upon 
which, leaning against the ruins of the altar still re- 
maining in the chapel, he plays his friend's favorite 



78 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

airs. The expression of his countenance on these oc- 
casions announces hope ; he seems to expect a word 
of approbation from him whose remembrance he cher- 
ishes ; this hope and this employment continue until 
six o'clock, when he leaves off abruptly, saying, ^Not 
yet ! — but to-morrow he will speak to his child.' He 
then kneels down, prays fervently, rises with a sigh, 
and retires softly upon tiptoe, that he may not disturb 
the imaginary repose of his benefactor. The same 
affecting scene takes place day after day ; and during 
the intervals, the poor boy's faculties seem completely 
absorbed, till the fatal hour calls forth the same hopes, 
destined forever to be chilled by the same disap- 
pointment. 

'^Though a prisoner within the same building, I had 
not had an opportunity of seeing the unfortunate youth . 
I have just for the first time looked upon that counte- 
nance whereon are depicted so many griefs and vir- 
tues. I found it impossible to entertain you with any 
thing else to-day. Adieu, then, my friend till to-mor- 
row ; but more happy than Tommy, I am certain of 
being able to repeat to the object of my solicitude all 
the tenderness with which he inspires me." 

There cannot be a more touching disclosure of a 
pure philanthropy and disinterested kindness of 
heart, than this little narrative. And were it not for 
a native flow of animal spirits, and familiarity with 
sad reverses, in a period of wild discord, Josephine's 
cheerful interest in the happiness of others, and the 
comparitive sangfroid of Beauharnais, amid the 
thickening gloom that to every observant eye hung. 



/ 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 79 

menacingly on the future, would be marvelous. He 
enters into her benevolent commiseration of Tommy, 
with a delicacy of feeling and sympathy, which shed 
an attractive lustre upon his character, and afford, in 
the subjoined reply, a pleasing continuation of the 
young maniac's history. 

Beauiiarnais to Josephine. \/ 

"Your history, my beloved friend, is extremely 
touching, and little Tommy very interesting. After 
having read your letter more than once, privately, I 
communicated it to our circle, and each like myself, 
praised, as he deserves, the poor victim of the noblest 
of all sentiments — that is to say, all have shed tears 
over his misfortunes. All France would do the same 
were the circumstances disclosed. Ah ! how he merits 
to be known ! What a contrast to the crimes of the 
age ! But the epochs of the greatest iniquities are 
likewise the eras of the loftiest virtues, and for the 
sake of example, that of Tommy ought not to remain 
in obscurity. We have talents here which will find 
delight in holding up his to general admiration. One 
of us is prepared to paint the portrait of your Tommy ; 
another will dedicate his literary exertions to the same 
pious purpose ; and this little monument, offered V\rith- 
out pretension to a public not naturally insensible, may, 
perhaps, lay the foundation of the orphan's fortune. 

" For my own part, I shall be happy to contribute 
to this effect by attaching the forsaken youth to the 
fortunes of our son. Eugene bears in his heart the 
germ of every virtue ; and how would these seeds of 
goodness be ripened into activity by the example of 



80 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

one who had carried even to excess the affections of 
attachment and gratitude 1 Do not lose sight of this 
idea ; it will, my good Josephine, accord with your 
benevolent inclinations ; and, should it ever be real- 
ized, we shall have gained, from the most painful oc- 
currences of our life, the rarest of all monuments — 
the most affecting of all recollections. 

'•My oppression diminishes daily ; there remains 
only a severe cold, which has fixed upon my chest, 
through the perpetual irritation inseparable from my 
situation. At the sight of the doctor, all this disap- 
pears ; and when I read your letters, my dear Jose- 
phine, I cannot persuade myself but that I am happy ! 
When we shall once more be reunited, my happiness 
will no longer be an illusion, and you will be of the 
same mind, for you will feel it to be real." 

Josephine attributed this returning hope of a re- 
union, to the effect of reading of the " Old Cordelier," 
a work whose appearance was hailed by the victims 
of Robespierre, as evidence of more moderation in 
views, and a less brutal policy to succeed that which 
decimated France. After alluding with triumphant 
anticipation to the new ground of courage, in a note 
to Beauharnais, she casually discloses the volatility 
and irreligion of the noblesse ; showing their entire 
incapacity to introduce a better order of things in gov- 
ernment, had they attained the power. While lust, 
blasphemy and legalized murder, were filling the land 
with horrors at which the civilized world stood aghast, 
and executioners were impatient to add their bodies 
to the gladiatorial show, these captives were busy with 



LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 81 

the plans of extravagant pleasure, and dreaming only 
of the sports of the turf, and the excitement of the 
chase. In her own words ; " One half of our captives 
have given orders for fetes, country parties, and new 
furniture. To-day, Madam de S. sent for a famous 
jockey, with whom she has concluded a treaty for re- 
plenishing her stud ; and the old Du Merbion, with 
whom you may recollect having hunted at Rainey, has 
ordered from Scotland six couple of terriers, such as 
were never seen in France. In short, projectors of all 
descriptions are retained by the month ; and when we 
do get out I know not if we shall find a morsel of 
food ! Nevil's mother participates in our hopes and 
our joys ; and you, my dear Alexander, you must not 
destroy them with a cruel foresight — an ill-founded 
distrust, and all the sinister presentiments inspired by 
too much experience, by the remembrance of a home, 
and the aspect of a prison. Till we meet, my be- 
loved, adieu ; I do not to-day embrace you upon cold 
paper; for I hold myself in reserve soon to lavish 
upon you endearments like my affection — real. 

P. S. I have written to our aunt, imparting the 
happy news. I wrote also to our children, and have 
informed Eugene of a companion worthy of him. 
Tommy consents to live with us, but stipulates one 
express condition — namely, that, upon the second 
day of every month, at three o'clock in the afternoon, 
he shall be permitted to come here, and, by the har- 
mony of his notes, charm the dreams of his sleeping 
friend during the whole continuance of the Revolu- 
tion ! Poor Tommy ! who would not be moved by a 
delirium so affecting ! " 



82 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

This postscript is the last ghmpse of her protege, 
Tommy ; the effect of subsequent release upon the 
helpless one among thousands — his wanderings and 
death are unrecorded. He was nevertheless great as 
the greatest, in the essential elements of humanity, 
and his title to immortality beyond the dread theatre 
of his sufferings. 

Josephine amused herself in writing to her husband 
and children, while her presence and goodness shed 
a beautiful radiance athwart the gloom of desponding 
spirits in that prison, and formed a fine contrast with 
the idiot folly and sensuality that marked the char- 
acter of her associates, from the fashionable walks of 
life. She was a fond mother, and yet endowed with 
decision, which never sacrificed principle, and pro- 
priety, to parental partiality. There is a delightful 
illustration of this trait, in a brief letter to Hortense 
after an adventure that no less displayed the impulsive 
ardor of the daughter, who leaving her aunt secretly 
one morning, rode to Paris, thirty miles, with a mar- 
ket-man ; returning the following day without having 
obtained the object of her filial flight. 

Josephine to Hortense. 
" I should be entirely satisfied with the good heart 
of my Hortense, were I not displeased with her bad 
head. How, my daughter, is it, without permission 
from your aunt, that you have come to Paris ? What 
do I say ? It is contrary to her desire ! This is very 
bad. But it was to see me, you will say. You ought 
to be quite aware that no one sees me without an or- 
der, to obtain which requires both means and precau- 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 83 

tions, such as poor Yictorine is little able to take. 
And, besides, you got upon M. Darcet's cart, at the 
risk of incommoding him, and retarding the convey- 
ance of his merchandize. In all this joii have been 
very inconsiderate. My child, observe, it is not suffi- 
cient to do good ; you must also do that good properly. 
At your age, the first of all virtues is confidence and 
docility towards your relations. I am therefore obliged 
to tell you, that I prefer your brother's tranquil attach- 
ment to your misplaced warmth. This, however, 
does not prevent me from embracing you, but less ten- 
d3ily than I shall do when I have learned that you 
are a^ain at Fontainbleau." 

This reproof almost broke Hortense's sensitive hearts 
soothed only by the renewed affection and attentions 
of her guardian aunt. 

Robespierre was still apparantly relenting, approv- 
ing the conservatism of the " Old Cordelier," whose 
publication after all, was only permitted as a test of 
popular feeling. And when he saw that the subsi- 
ding swell of madness for blood was slowly sweeping 
down upon his throne of terror, his suspension of the 
unsparing havoc, was an interlude of preparation with 
him — his blows would be more certain when his eye 
had scanned fully the front of darkening danger. 

But Josephine and De Beauharnais both cherished 
anticipations of release, strengthened by the interpo- 
sition of friends who had come into places of pow- 
er. Cubieres and Sigas, were principals in this effort 
to save the Viscount, and others before whom he 
would be summoned if tried, had served under his 



84 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

command in the army. Sigas, minister of war, was 
selected to report this case to the committee of Pubhc 
Safety, which drew from Josephine a communication 
creditable alike to the mind and heart of the writer. 

Josephine to Citizen Prosper Sigas. 
'' Citizen, — I am informed that you have been 
employed to prepare a report, to be presented to the 
Committee of General Safety, on the aifair of Gen- 
eral Beauharnais. For this I give thanks to heaven ; 
and had I been permitted to choose my judge, that 
choice would have fallen upon you. I had heard 
you mentioned, and always has your name been 
accompanied by those honorable but considerate 
epithets which flattery can never invent, which can 
be inspired by gratitude alone, and are never deceit- 
ful. Subsequently chance, or rather Providence, be- 
came less severe towards us — placed me in momen- 
tary correspondence with you. That brief space suf- 
ficed to convince me, that the gratitude of those 
whom you have obliged is only consistent with truth. 
I also am become one of those whose misfortunes 
you have endeavored to mitigate. I have to unite 
my gratitude to that of the many unfortunate beings 
whom you have labored to render forgetful of their 
calamities. Nor are you ignorant that mine increase 
in bitterness each day that passes away while my 
husband remains in prison untried. For it is no 
longer his liberty which he solicits — he demands 
his trial. A brave soldier has a right to this 
when he is accused of a crime which compromises 
his honor. 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 85 

" Alexander de Beauharnais a conspirator ! One 
of the founders of liberty meditating its downfall. 
He who among a hundred others, was distinguished 
as a promoter of the repuhlic, essaying to overturn 
freedom ! Citizen, you have never believed the 
accusation, and those who have brought it forward 
believe it no more than you. But the importance 
lies in that his judges should no longer give credit to 
the imputation. Let them listen to you, and they 
will be persuaded. Do not tell them, however, that 
his wife, equally innocent as himself, languishes far 
from him, under other bolts than those by which he 
is retained. I speak of myself only to enable you to 
appreciate the injustice done to Alexander. Forget 
the mother persecuted, and her children dispersed, in 
order to think solely of the father and husband, or 
rather of the soldier and citizen, worthy of recovering 
honor and liberty." 

The appeal was successful in obtaining an inter- 
view between Josephine and her husband by his re- 
moval to the office of the Committee. The meeting 
was arranged without the knowledge of either, with 
the further design of securing the main object if posible. 

She was brought from prison and conducted to an 
ante-room, there to await the summons for trial before 
the tribunal of mock-justice. While in an agony of 
suspense in the very grasp of the foe, suddenly De 
Beauharnais was ushered into the apartment. The 
mutual surprise was overwhelming. Beauharnais, 
pale and haggard from confinement, fixed his brilliant 
eye upon the beautiful being before him, in amaze- 



86 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

merit, while with manthng cheek and quiveiing lip, 
after a momentary pause, she rushed to his arms. 
They wept with rapture, and when the emotion 
which eifaced the gloomy record of " a whole year of 
misery " was past, and thought returned to the future, 
a ray of light played upon the horizon of despair to 
the gaze of the Yiscount, whose hastening ordeal 
would blot it out forever. Sigas broke the charm of 
this unexpected hour of bliss, by entering to announce 
the removal from office of reporter Louis of the Lower 
Rhine, who was kindly disposed toward the family 
of Beauharnais ; and consequently to urge an exami- 
nation upon the new officer of the Committee, would 
be inexpedient, perhaps defeat the noble purpose of 
friends who had made the encouraging movement. 

Josephine writes : — " I also resolved to profit by 
this information and promised to solicit no audience 
till a more favorable moment. This occasion had in- 
deed, been far from unpropitious, since it had brought 
us together. But in what a place ! and at what a 
crisis ! 1 know not what my poor Alexander thought 
of me ; for my part, I found him very pale, very thin, 
and sadly changed. As to his disposition, that is ever 
the same ; he is the most amiable and the noblest of 
men. Resignation, courage, heroic sentiments, and 
conduct still more magnanimous, such are the princi- 
ples of his character. He had wept with joy on once 
more beholding me ; when it had become necessary 
that we should separate, he was calm and collected. 
He embraced me more like a friend than a husband, 
and recommended our children to my care. Such 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 87 

tranquility becomes innocence like his. Now I grieve 
that these people of the committee did not see him. 
Could they have resisted the ascendency of his 
virtues 1 " 

This trusting wife, with all her experience in scenes 
of human cruelty — her sorrows inflicted by the fero- 
city of the gory tribunal, did not fathom the caverns 
of iniquity in the bosoms of those who held the reins 
that guided the car of Reason over the corpse of every 
opposing citizen, whether prince or beggar. 

Her next intelligence of Beauharnais, was the sen- 
tence on the 6th Thermidor, (July 23d, 1794,) and its 
execution on the succeeding day. Two days later 
Robespierre fell amid the execrations of the mob, just 
in time to avert the lifted stroke from the head of Jo- 
sephine. So does destiny hinge on moments, and 
lie coiled in a passing event, that with a little change 
in its relation to the individual, would have given a 
different aspect to time and eternity. Had Robes- 
pierre been slain a few hours sooner, Beauharnais had 
lived, and ^^ the first wife of Napoleon^^^ never been 
added to the honors of Josephine — had the tyrant 
been spared till another morning, she would have 
been thrown with her beheaded companion into the 
pit of the undistinguished dead. 

When apprized of his doom, Beauharnais was calm, 
for the event had been expected, till the apprehension 
assumed the form of a presentiment, and prepared his 
mind for the time of sacrifice. It would seem that 
he was a believer in Revelation, and borrowed sus- 
taining hope from its sacred page, intelligently appre- 



88 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

dating the solemnity of entering " within the veil " 
of completed destiny, and of reckoning with a Judge 
whose decisions are unerring and final. 

During this night of contemplation, his last on 
earth, he wrote a parting message to Josephine, inter- 
rupted by the messengers of death, from whom he 
purchased a lock of his own hair, shorn off in accor- 
dance with usage, before execution, to expose fully 
the victim's neck to the fatal axe. What a concen- 
tration of life into that brief period ! The past lay 
behind him with its bitter and pleasant memories — 
the present like the last goblet of water pressed to the 
parched lip of the perishing for thirst, each drop a 
treasure, was counted by moments — and before his 
swimming eye lay a culprit's grave, and the vast 
shadows of a realm unknown. 

Enclosing the memorial of affection in the letter, he 
was hurried away to the guillotine, and for awhile 
silence rested on the closing scene of his tragical ca- 
reer as a member of the Gironde. At length the relic 
reached Josephine, and, to quote from a line to Mad- 
am F. Beauharnais, transmitting the manuscript for 
perusal, produced "a sweet change in all her feel- 
ings," dispelling a dark mystery, and reviving affec- 
tion with new tokens of love. 

De Beauharnais to Josephine. 

'' Night of the 6-7th Thermidor, ) 

Year 2d, Conciergery (24-25th July, 1794.) \ 

" Yet some moments to tenderness, to tears, and to 

regret — then wholly to the glory of my fate, to the 

grand thoughts of immortality. When you receive 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 89 

this letter, my Josephine, your husband will have 
long ceased to live here, but, in the bosom of his God, 
he will have began to enjoy a real existence. Thou 
seest, then, that there is indeed no cause for mourning 
on his account : it is over the wicked, the insensate 
men who survive him, that tears are to be shed ; for 
they inflict, and are incapable of repairing the evil. 
But let us not sully with their guilty image these 
last moments. I would, on the contrary, adorn them 
by the thought, that having been united to a charm- 
ing woman, I might have beheld the years passed 
with her glide away without the slightest cloud, had 
not wrongs, of which I became sensible only when 
too late, troubled our union. This reflection wrings 
tears from me. Thy generous soul pardoned the mo- 
ment that suffering overtook me ; and I ought to re- 
compense thee for such kindness by enjoying, without 
recalling it to thy remembrance, since I must thus 
bring back the recollection of my errors and thy sor- 
rows. What thanks do I owe to Providence, who 
will bless thee ! 

" Now Heaven disposes of me before my time and 
even this is one of its mercies. Can the good man 
live without grief when he sees the world a prey to 
the wicked ? I should think myself happy, therefore, 
in being removed from their power, did I not feel that 
I abandon to them beings so valued and beloved. If, 
however, the thoughts of the dying be presentiments, I 
experience one in the recesses of my heart which as- 
sures me that these horrible butcheries are soon to be 
suspended — that to the victims are to succeed their 



90 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

executioners — that the arts and sciences, the true pros- 
perity of states, shall flourish again in France — that 
wise and equitable laws will reign after these cruel 
sacrifices — and that you will obtain that happiness of 
which you were always worthy, and which to the pre- 
sent time has fled from you. Our children will con- 
tribute to your felicity — they will discharge their 
father's debt. 

" 1 resume these incoherent and almost illegible 
lines, which my jailers had interrupted. 

" I have just undergone a cruel formality, which, 
under other circumstances, they should have forced 
me to endure only by depriving me of life. But why 
strive against necessity ? reason requires that we do 
all for the best. My hair has been cut off. I have 
contrived to purchase back a portion of it in order to 
bequeath to my wife, and to my children, undeniable 
evidence, pledges of my last recollections. I feel that 
at this thought my heart is breaking, and tears bedew 
the paper. Farewell, all that I love ! Love each 
other ; speak of me ; and never forget that the glory 
of dying the victim of tyrants, the martyr of freedom, 
enobles the scaffold." 

In the mean time, Josephine was suffering the an- 
guish of suspense as to her own fate, which, with this 
sudden bereavement, prostrated her system, and well 
nigh dethroned reason. She heard without pain 
the summons to prepare for the guillotine. But the 
fall of Robespierre, and his fearful end, before the de- 
cision was carried into effect, rescued her from the 
murderer's hand, with seventy others doomed to death 
*on the following morning. 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 91 

Never, perhaps, was there a more forcible illustration 
of the mastery of superstition over the mind, when it 
once has usurped control of the imagination, than 
that afforded by Josephine's turning triumphantly 
amid the sad yet changeful events that crowded upon 
her, to the prediction of Euphemia, the ^^magician^^ 
of Martinique. When the jailer came to remove the 
furniture of her prison for another captive, and replied 
to the remonstrance of Duchess d' Aiguillon, with an 
^'atrocious laugh," as he finished his work, "She will 
not need it, she is to be taken to a new lodging, and 
thence to the guillotine ;" while her companions lifted 
a wild lamentation, she calmed their fears by assuring 
them, she was yet to be the Queen of Fi'ance. A 
singular reaction of feeling, brought back with the 
power of a revelation from the skies, this remarkable 
hit in the guessings of a gypsy, and was at least ser- 
viceable in reviving her worn and drooping spirits. 

The circumstances of Robespierre's death, whom 
the delirious populace at first named the ^' patriot ^^ — ■ 
then the ^^virtuous^^ — then again the ^^incorruptihle''' 
— and at length the " great^^ exhibit impressively the 
certain retribution of gigantic crime, and also the in- 
fluence of small events on the destinies of men. The 
murmur of " tyrant^^ which had startled him to vigi- 
lance and mock clemency, found a response even in 
the party who sustained him in power, and a con- 
spiracy was formed of which Tallienwas the guiding 
genius. But to hurl the ensanguined Titan from his 
seat, was no trivial exploit, and when or how the con- 
spirators should " crush the wretch," was a problem 



92 



LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 



whose solution might have been delayed till the mor- 
ning sacrifice of citizens had filled the open pits that 
waited for the mutilated forms of princes and mendi- 
cants — maidens and mothers— but for Tallien's love 
for a beautiful captive, Madam de Fontenay, who for 
his sake leaving her husband, Avas finally divorced. 
She found that her blood was required, and without 
immediate action, she would be hurried to the scaifold. 
One evening as she was wont to do, she stood before 
the prison-grates, accompanied by her friend Madam 
}3eaQharnais, to have at least a look from Tallien, 
who thus nourished his own attachment. Madam 
Fontenay, determined to make an eifort to avert the 
stroke of tlie dictator. She resorted to one of the many 
disguises employed by parted friends in all ages, 
under the vulture eye of oppression. Attracting Tal- 
lien's attention, she threw a cabbage-stalk from the 
v/indow, enclosing a note, entreating him -'if he loved 
her, to urge every means to save France, and her." 
The die was cast — he hastened to the committees, 
and fanned the discord there, then entered the Con- 
vention, where Robespierre was silently waiting like 
a couchant tiger for conflict with his foes. St. Just 
v/as addressing the assembly, and as he uttered the 
v/ords, "I lift the veil," he forced him from the tribune, 
and shouted with awakening energy, "I rend it asun- 
der ! " Then like Cicero on Cataline, he turned his 
impetuous harrangue upon Robespierre, until the in- 
dignation was concentrated in that cry of vengeance, 
'•Down with the tyrant!" resounding through the 
hall, the knell of his doom. He was arrested in the 



LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 93 

circle of his adherents, who made a short struggle in 
his defence ; but escaping from custody and accompa- 
nied by them, he proceeded to the Hotel de Ville. The 
Convention declared them all " outlaws," and broke 
in upon their conclave to finish the summary sentence* 
After an unsuccessful attempt to kill himself, Robes- 
pierre was dragged to the guillotine, and his brother 
with others of the Jacobin oligarchy, soon after fol- 
lowed him to the block. Thus perished amid the ex- 
ecrations of the people, the homicide they worshiped 
as a god when he rose to his guilty eminence on the 
ruins of a fallen throne. This was on the 9th Ther- 
midor, (July 27, 1794.) And thus a woman indirectly 
slew the ruler in this Reign of Terror, and opened the 
way for her companion in peril, to reach the summit 
from which he was so suddenly hurled, and which 
her virtues would by a mighty contrast, brilliantly 
adorn. 

And it was doubtless through the influence of this 
lady, afterwards Madam Tallien, that Josephine re- 
gained her freedom — though the process of her liber- 
ation is not disclosed. For under the new govern- 
ment of a kingdom still throbbing to its centre with 
the volcanic action of the mad-fever raging in its bo- 
som, there was only a cessation of cruelties — a con- 
servative check thrown upon the revolutionary strug- 
gle ; while the masses were suffering, and the prisoners 
retained as a kind of hostage for future emergency. 
Josephine warmly acknowledged the kindness of the 
interposition which saved her, and was ever after-, 
wards a devoted friend of Madam Tallien. 



94 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

Letters which were written by the widowed mother 
the night before her anticipated trial, evince the un» 
sulhed devotion to her family, so conspicuous in every 
change of her varied fortunes. She prepared mes- 
sages for Eugene and Hortense, in which she says, 
'' My last sigh will be one of tenderness, and I hope 
my last words may prove a lesson. Time was when 
I could impart sweet instructions, but the present will 
not be the less useful, that they have been given in 
the season of calamity," Although restored to her 
joyful offspring and the bosom of friends, her property 
had gone down in the vortex from which she but 
narrowly escaped, and France itself was desolate. 
Her benevolence in brighter years, was remembered, 
and there were those who cheerfully extended aid in 
the destitution that prevailed, especially Madam Du- 
moulin, an excellent woman, " to whom," she has 
said, " I was actually indebted for my daily bread." 
The famine raged so fiercely, the wealthiest were 
fearful of starvation — and the common people like 
those of afflicted Ireland at present, were frantic skel- 
etons or dying maniacs. As the previous years were 
called the Reign of Terror, so 1795 might be named 
the " starving timeP It is also related that to escape 
the restless spirit of ochlocracy which yet was rife. 
Madam Beauharnais was obliged to apprentice Eu- 
gene to a carpenter in the Rue del' Echelle, lest his 
noble blood should make him a mark for the assassin's 
stroke ; and that the subsequent Viceroy of Italy, in 
this condition, was seen bearing on his youthful 
shoulders the heavy plank, and other burdens inci- 



LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 95 

dent to his rough employment. It is certain, his 
mother afterward alluded to their humble life at 
Fontainbleau, to restrain ambition, and enforce on the 
prince's mind the lessons of humanity and magna- 
nimity. 

We may here pause, where the " counter-revolution 
equally bold and artful, raised its vengeance-glowing 
head," and survey the outline of the unparalleled 
movement, whose rapid sweep astonished the nations. 

Its rise was manifestly the legitimate result of cor- 
ruption in the social and political state, in contrast 
with the diffusion of intelligence among the people. 
Since the advent of Christ, ideas of equality of rights, 
essential to human responsibility, had been penetra- 
ting the minds of the enslaved, and the jiress scattered 
them like firebrands among the combustible material 
that lies beneath the shadow of every despotic throne. 
National bankruptcy and pecuniary distress, in con- 
nexion with the light Montesquieu shed on the cause 
of freedom, followed by Voltaire and Rosseau, whose 
scepticism also prepared the way for the blind atro- 
city which distinguished the revolution ; hastened the 
dreadful consummation of awakening rebellion in 
France. 

The clear illumination of Revelation was discarded 
as superstition, and sensuality, passion, characteris- 
tic frivolity, and aristocratic bitterness of the court 
and foreign monarchies to innovation, made the strug- 
gle from its commencement a lawless, dark, ferocious, 
and hopeless civil war. Yet did 1789 bring such a 
shivering of fetters, and shout of uprising millions, 



96 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

that the sound rose above the shrieks of madness and 
groans of death-agony, and fell like music on the ear 
of the oppressed, and as a knell, was listened to by 
anxious kings. The echo of that conflict has not died 
away, but a response is heard in the deepening voice 
of the masses demanding justice ; and beheld in the 
birth-throes of liberty that shake the dynasties of 
Europe. 

As we have seen, the first decisive action was the 
convocation of the Estates, April 27th, 1789. The 
committal of Louis to the third estate, or the people, 
by which his authority was gone — and the consequent 
indecision when urged to crush the tumult by mas- 
sacre, followed by the report of the banishment of 
Necker and Montmain, both popular ministers — in- 
flamed the multitude, and spread insurrection on ev- 
ery side. Then came the storming of the Bastile, the 
state fortress, in which the noblest and purest had 
wept and died. The eager throng raising their wild 
outcry, rushed upon the hoary sepulchre of hope and 
innocence like resistless surges, till it fell amid the ac- 
clamations of millions, and their tears of joy ; while 
the overthrow resounded over the continent, gladden- 
ing every where the hearts of the good. 

Political, fanaticism, excited and encouraged by as- 
piring and unprincipled leaders, succeeded ; the aban- 
doned and homeless flocked together, with curses beg- 
ging for bread, until forty thousand marched toward 
Versailles, and the royal family were compelled to ask 
for mercy. Conducted by the rabble to Paris, Louis 
was a creature of the living tide, that now with accumu- 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 97 

lating strength bore on its bosom the titles of nobihty 
and the insignia of rank, threatening the very citadel 
of Bourbon power. Clubs arose which favored the 
concentration of Revolutionary action. The King 
finally fled, but after five days, returning, was rein- 
stated, and signed a constitution which was speedily 
overthrown, while foreign coalition to crush democ- 
racy, "poured oil on the blazing flame." September 
21st, 1792, the Jacobin faction, headed by Robespierre 
and Marat, having obtained the ascendant, declared 
Royalty forever abolished^ and France a Republic. 

Louis XVI., was arraigned before the convention, 
December 11th ; January 17th condemned, and was 
executed on the 21st of the same month. Next fell 
the Gironde, of whom Beauharnais was a chief in 
elevation of mind, and terrorism with its hideous tri- 
biuial was supreme. In this unexampled machinery 
of desolation, were a Committee of Public Safety, the 
many-headed monster v^^hich wielded the strength — 
having its secret courts, and dictating measures at 
pleasure, however villainous their design. The Com- 
mittee of Public Security, was subordinate, acting as 
police, and with the former constituting the Legislative 
Assembly as far as any deliberative action softened 
the fierceness of misrule and unbridled depravity. 
The crowning terror was the Tribunal, whose eight 
judges and twelve jurymen, were a frightful semblance 
of justice to the accused. This executive, afterward 
divided into four branches for more successful opera- 
tion, was aided by the Parisian Club, whose members 
hunted out the suspected, whether retired citizens, or 



98 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 



active patriots — and the guillotine declared perma- 
nent, flooded the land with the life-stream of headless 
trunks, till more than a million were offered up to the 
deity of Reason. 

So from each smiling valley and sunny slope, with 
the spreading dawn, the sledges were visible loaded 
with victims, and the green turf bathed in the red bap- 
tism, till the people drunk with slaughter, turned on 
the insatiate autocrat, and trampled him indignantly 
under their feet. This crisis reserved Josephine for 
new scenes, and brighter as well as gloomier days. 

With the pliancy of disposition, so striking in 
Frenchmen, Paris stained with blood, soon displayed 
the gorgeous livery of fashion, and circles of festivity. 
Madam Tallien and Madam. Beauharnais, were con- 
spicuous in the saloons, on account of their beauty 
and accomplishments, especially the former, whose 
personal attractions were superior to those of the 
graceful widow. It is pleasing to witness amid this 
singular oblivion of the past, a remembrance of the 
dead, and cultivation of the better feelings, as in the 
following letter of 

Josephine to Madam F. Beauharnais. 
^' I must relate to you a charming trait of our Eu- 
gene. Yesterday, being the 7th Thermidor, the anni- 
versary of a day ever to be deplored, I sent for him, 
and, showing the engraved portrait of his father, said, 
^ There, my son, is what will prove equivalent to six 
months of diligent study and of wise conduct. The 
portrait is for you ; carry it to your chamber, and let 
it often form the object of your contemplations. Above 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 99 

all, let him whose image it presents be your constant 
model : he was the most amiable and affectionate of 
men, he would have been the best of fathers.' Eu- 
gene spoke not a word : his look was cast down, his 
countenance suffused, and his grief evident in his agi- 
tation. On receiving the portrait, he covered it with 
kisses and tears. Mine also flowed apace, and thus, 
silently locked in each other's embrace, we offered to 
the shade of Alexander an acceptable homage. 

" The same evening all my friends having retired 
excepting Cubiere and St. , I beheld my son en- 
ter, followed by six of his young friends, each deco- 
rated with a copy of Alexander's portrait, suspended 
from the neck by a black and white ribbon. ' You 
see,' said Eugene, ' the founders of a new order of 
knighthood ; behold our tutelary saint,' pointing to the 
portrait of his father, ' and these are the first members,' 
introducing his youthful friends. ' Our's is named 
the order of Filial Love^ and if you would witness 
the first inauguration, pass with these gentlemen into 
the small drawing-room.' Judge, my dear aunt, of my 
emotion ! We followed Eugene. Our little saloon, 
fitted up with a taste in which I recognized the hand 
of Victorine, was ornamented with a long garland of 
ivy, roses and laurels. Inscriptions, extracted from 
the printed discourses or remarkable sayings of M. de 
Beauharnais, filled the intervals, and beneath them 
were girandoles with lighted tapers. This heroic and 
simple decoration served as an offset to a species of 
altar, upon which, surrounded with festoons of 
flowers, and with flambeaux, stood the whole-length 



100 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

portrait of my unfortunate husband. Three crowns, 
one of white and red roses, a second of laurel, and 
the third of cypress, was suspended from the picture- 
frame ; and in front stood two vases with perfumes. 
Six others of my son's companions, ranged about the 
altar, maintained a respectful silence. On seeing us, 
the greater part, being armed with swords, unsheathed 
their weapons, and clasping the hand of my son, took 
the oath, 'to love their parents — -to succor each other 
— and to defend their country.' At this sacred word, 
my son, unfurling and waving a small pennon, shaded 
among its folds the head of his father. We em- 
braced each other, mingling tears with smiles, and the 
most amiable disorder succeeded to the ceremonial of 
inauguration. 

" Ah ! my beloved aunt, could any thing comfort 
me for my irreparable loss, would not my children 
prove my consolation, who, while they make me feel 
it more acutely, sweeten the pain by so many good 
and endearing qualities ! How much did I regret 
that my Ilortense was absent ! — but she is with you. 
She will read my letter ; she will weep with joy in 
there recognizing her own affections, and will double 
her delight while she runs to mingle tears with those 
of her brother, who, I am well assured, will ever bear 
in mind his father's constancy and courage, and will 
strive to render himself worthy of the name he bears, 
by perpetuating the brilliant actions which render the 
warrior illustrious, and which honor the peaceful cit- 
izen. The heart of my Eugene includes all that is 
good and great." 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 101 

Cheered by visions of Eugene's future glory, and 
idolized in the society of the metropolis, where even 
over Barras and others who had been associated with 
the terrorists, she threw a subduing spell, while she 
won their friendship, advantageous as it was sincere, 
Josephene passed quietly the vernal months of 1795 ; 
a prelude to her entrance upon a wider and more splen- 
did theatre of influence. 



ClIAPTEE lY. 

Bonaparte in Paris. — A glance at his History. — Personal appearance. 
— His exploit the 13th Vendemiaire. — Acq.uaintancb with Josephine, 
— Her views of a second marriage. — Hesitates.— Napoleon freq,uent3 
THE mansion of Madam De Beauharnais. — His conversational pow- 
ers. — Marriage. — Leaves his Bride to join the Army. — Brilliant suc- 
cess.— Correspondence.— Eugene's Heroism. — Letters to Josephine. 
— Her Residence at Milan. — Bonaparte's peculiarities, and kindness 
to Josephine's Family. — He marches to Rastadt. — Returns to Paris. 
— Josephine joins him. 

It was "Prarial"* of the third year of the Repub- 
lic, (1795,) when Napoleon, the hero of Toulon, re- 
turned to Paris, suspended from his rank as General 
of the artillery, and taking private lodgings, renewed 
his intimacy with his old classmate and friend, Bour- 
rienne. Albitti and Salicetti, who succeeded the ter- 
rorists as Representatives of the people, influenced by 
the misrepresentations of his enemies, or jealous of 
the young Corsican, whose rapid advancement aston- 

* The new calendar formed October, 1793, upon the abolition 
of the Christian Register, divided the year into twelve months 
of thirty days each, succeeded by five complimental days. The 
names of the months are taken from the seasons. In the Spring, 
were Germined^ FloriaJ^ and Prarial ; in the Summer, Messi- 
dor, T/iermidor, and Fructidor ; in the Autumn, Vendimiere ; 
Brumaire^ and Frurdiare; in the Winter, Nivose^ Flaviose, and 
Venlose. 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE, 103 

ished them, ordered the arrest which resuUed in this 
humihation ; and had it occurred a few weeks earher, 
would doubtless have added him to the myriads des- 
patched by the guillotine. Here the months passed 
away ; the youthful officer frequenting the theatres, 
and moving quietly among the busy crowds that 
thronged the Capital, scarcely arrested their attention, 
much less the eye of beauty ; while his restless spirit 
chafed against his inactivity, like the captive eagle 
upon the iron grate that confines his free pinions. 
But his generous impulses found culture in relieving 
the pitiful groups that crossed his daily paths, and he 
often enlisted the sympathies of others for the wretched. 

Bonaparte's career up to this time had prepared 
him for his mission. In Corsica, he was cradled in 
the midst of political agitation, and hostile from his 
boyhood to the subjugation of the island, he became 
meditative and reserved, nourishing that self-reliance 
and independence of character, which made him at 
Brienne a sullen solitare, and target of railery to his 
fellow students. This strengthened his sublime de- 
cision of character, and quickened his keen observa^ 
tion of human nature, while it gave him that appear- 
ance of severity and contempt for man, which dis- 
tinguished his manner when mingling with promis- 
cuous society. 

He was at this date, twenty-six. The dark com- 
plexion of early years had worn oiF under the mild 
sky of France ; but a contagious disease he had taken 
at Toulon, from a soldier, and which penetrated his 
sptem with malignant power, so reduced his frame, 



104 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 



that his flashing eye seemed set in the sockets of a 
skeleton. Yet his ambition was untamed, and he 
waited anxiously for an occasion which the convul- 
sions of the country in their constantly changing as- 
pect, in the following autumn presented. The Con- 
vention had lost favor with the multitude, and a new 
step was demanded in the march of revolution. A 
constitution was formed, securing a Directory of five, 
the executive — a Council of five hundred, the House 
of Commons — and the Council of Ancients, answering 
to the English Peers. The Convention unwilling to 
part with authority, made it a condition of acceptance, 
that the second division should include two thirds of 
their members. This excited the Parisians, especially 
the superior classes, who were indignant because it 
disclosed an arbitrary and selfish tenacity of power. 
With these insurrectionary sections, the National 
Guard united, and the forces prepared to attack the 
Tuilleries, and compel the assembly to meet the wish- 
es of the majority, and change their measures. With 
five hundred regular troops, and the remnant of Ro- 
bespierre's ruffian army, the Convention prepared to 
resist the onset. Menou assumed the command, and 
failed to fill the perilous position. While his indeci- 
sion alarmed the body still in session, Barras exclaim- 
ed, as if a sudden revelation had aroused him, " I 
have the man whom you want : it is a little Corsican 
officer, who will not stand upon ceremony P This ex- 
pression determined the destiny of Napoleon. He was 
soon in command, and the 13th Yendemiare, (Octo- 
ber 5th,) planted his cannon at the cross-streets and 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 105 

bridges, sweeping with his hail of death the advan- 
cing columns of the insurgentSj till the pavements 
were covered with the slain, and the flame of rebellion 
extinguished in blood. The new order of things was 
established, and Barras, the presiding spirit, obtained 
for Bonaparte the generalship of the Army of the In- 
terior, and the office of commandant of Paris. He 
was now no longer a unit among the many, but the 
military chieftain of a kingdom. Charged with the 
work of disarming the conquered citizens, he obtained 
the sword of the Viscount De Beauharnais, a blade 
its mouldering possessor never dishonored. Eugene 
in his boyish enthusiasm, resolved to have the wea- 
pon wielded by a father he loved and lamented. 
Presenting himself to Napoleon, he made his request 
— the General was struck with his earnestness and 
manly bearing, and restored the relic, which he bore 
away bathed with tears. The next day Josephine 
called at the commandant's head-quarters, to thank 
him in person for his kindness. This increased the 
interest Napoleon had entertained for her since through 
the friendship of Barras he formed her acquaintance 
in the social circles of Paris. It is related that before 
he indulged serious intentions of marrying Madam 
Beauharnais, he offered himself to Madam De Per- 
mon, an old family friend, and an interesting widow, 
but was rejected. However this may be, he was 
deeply smitten with the charms of the lovely woman, 
whose son had given assurance of her excellent quali- 
ties in his own admirable behaviour. The increasing 
attachment was every way favorable to Napoleon's 



106 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

plans and advancement, but subject of painful solici- 
tude to her, which is well expressed in a letter of 
some length, aftbrding also farther insight into a heart, 
cultivated no less than her genius. 

" My dear friend, I am urged to marry again : my 
friends counsel the measure, my aunt almost lays her 
injunctions to the same effect, and my children en- 
treat my compliance. Why are you not here to give 
me your advice in this important conjuncture? to per- 
suade me that I ought to consent to a union which 
must put an end to the irksomeness of my present 
position ? Your friendship, in which I have already 
experienced so much to praise, would render you 
clear-sighted for my interests ; and I should decide 
without hesitation as soon as you had spoken. You 
have met General Bonaparte in my house. Well ! — 
he it is who would supply a father's place to the or- 
phans of Alexander de Beauharnais, and a husband's 
to his widow. 

" ' Do you love him ? ' you will ask. Not exactly. 
' You then dislike him ? ' Not quite so bad ; but I find 
myself in that state of indifference which is any thing 
but agreeable, and which to devotees in religion gives 
more trouble than all their other peccadilloes. Love, 
being a species of worship, also requires that one feel 
very differently from all this ; and hence the need I 
have of your advice, which might fix the perpetual ir- 
resolution of my feeble character. To assume a de- 
termination has ever appeared fatiguing to my Creole 
supineness, which finds it infinitely more convenient 
to follow the will of others. 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 107 

" I admire the general's courage — the extent of his 
information, for on all subjects he talks equally well 
— and the quickness of his judgment, which enables 
him to seize the thoughts of others almost before they 
are expressed ; but, I confess it, I shrink from the des- 
potism he seems desirous of exercising over all who 
approach him. His searching glance has something 
singular and inexplicable, which imposes even on our 
Directors : judge if it may not intimidate a woman ! 
Even, what ought to please me, the force of a passion, 
described with an energy that leaves not a doubt of 
his sincerity, is precisely the cause which arrests the 
consent I am often on the point of pronouncing. 

'• Being now past the heyday of youth, can I hope 
long to preserve that ardor of attachment which, in 
the general resembles a fit of delirium ? If, after 
our union, he should cease to love me, will he not 
reproach me with what he will have sacrificed for 
my sake ? — will he not regret a more brilliant mar- 
riage which he might have contracted ? What shall 
I then reply ? — what shall I do ? I shall weep. Ex- 
cellent resource ! you will say. Good heavens ! I 
know that all this can serve no end ; but it has ever 
been thus ; tears are the only resources left me when 
this poor heart, so easily chilled, has suffered. 
Write quickly, and do not fear to scold me, should 
you judge that I am wrong. You know that what- 
ever comes from your pen will be taken in good part. 

"Barras gives assurance, that if I marry the 
general, he will so contrive as to have him appointed 
to the command of the army of Italy. Yesterday, 



108 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

Bonaparte, speaking of this favor, which aheady ex- 
cites murmuring among his fehow-soldiers, though 
it be as yet only a promise, said to me, ' Think they 
then, I have need of their protection to arrive at 
power ? Egregious mistake ! They will all be but 
too happy one day should I condescend to grant 
them mine. My sword is by my side, and with it I 
will go far.' 

" What say you to this security of success ? is it 
not a proof of confidence springing from an excess 
of vanity ? A general of brigade protect the heads 
of government ! That truly, is an event highly 
probable ! I know not how it is, but sometimes 
this waywardness gains upon me to such a degree, 
that almost I believe possible whatever this singular 
man may take it into his head to attempt ; and with 
his imagination, who can calculate what he will not 
undertake ? 

" Here we all regret you and console ourselves 
for your prolonged absence only by thinking of you 
every minute, and by endeavoring to follow you 
step by step through the beautiful country you are 
now traversing. Were I sure of meeting you in Italy, 
I would get married to-morrow, upon condition of fol- 
lowing the general ; but we might perhaps cross each 
other on the route ; thus I deem it more prudent to 
wait for your reply before taking my determination. 
Speed, then, your answer — and your return still more. 

'' Madam Tallien gives me in commission to tell 
you, that she loves you tenderly. She is always 
beautiful and good ; employing her immense influ- 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 109 

ence only to obtain pardon for the unfortunate who 
address themselves to her ; and adding to her ac- 
quiescence an air of satisfaction, which gives her the 
appearance of being the person obliged. Her friend- 
ship for me is ingenuous and affectionate, I assure 
you that the love I bear towards her resembles my 
affection for you. This will give you an idea of the 
attachment I feel for her, Hortense becomes more 
and more amiable ; her charming figure developes 
itself; and I should have fitting occasion, if so in- 
clined, to make troublesome reflections upon villain- 
ous Time, which merely adorns one at the expense of 
another. Happily, 1 have got quite a different crotchet 
in my head at present, and skip all dismals in order 
to occupy my thoughts solely with a future which 
promises to be happy, since we shall soon be reunited, 
never again to be separated. Were it not for this 
marriage, which puts me out, I should, despite of all, 
be gay ; but while it remains to be disposed of, I shall 
torment myself ; once concluded, co^^ne what may, I 
shall be resigned, I am habituated to suffering ; and 
if destined to fresh sorrows, I think I can endure 
them, provided my children, my aunt, and you v/ere 
spared me. We have agreed to cut short the conclu- 
sions of our letters, so adieu, my friend.'' 

It is very apparent, that Josephine was more deeply 
interested in her admirer than she would have her 
friend believe, and asking counsel, was only declaring 
both her passion and intention to marry. The 
months departed and Napoleon though environed 
with duties which attended his appointment, retired 



110 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

at evening to the mansion of Madam Beauharnais, 
to hear the melody of her voice, and enjoy an inter- 
lude of romantic pleasure, amid the stormy scenes 
that opened before his feet the path of glory. With a 
few select friends, among whom Madam Tallien was 
conspicuous, there were frequent meetings of the 
parties, and brilliant entertainments, which extended 
the friendship and influence of the commander-in- 
chief, among the very class the most available in car- 
rying forward his ambitious schemes ; already tower- 
ing above Alpine summits, and embracing thrones 
which had withstood the flow of centuries. 

Josephine has left her testimony respecting the fine 
conversational powers of her lover — which is proof of 
his ability in this department, whenever he chose to 
indulge the abandon of wit and compliment in the 
society of women, for whom it is well known, he 
entertained but a light opinion ; owing doubtless to 
the frivolous character and easy virtue of the ma- 
jority of those he met in the gay society of the me- 
tropolis. 

The spring-time spread beauty again over the valleys 
of unhappy France, while the tocsin of war fell on 
the eager ear of Napoleon. How the waving foliage 
nourished by the decaying dead, the bending sky, 
and the harmonies of nature filling it, mocked the 
mournful dwellings and breaking hearts, whose tram- 
pled vinyards were a symbol of what madness had 
wrought, and an index of future desolation by the 
shock of contending armies ! But Napoleon listened 
o]ily to the ravishing tones of love, and the svv'-eeter 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. Ill 

notes of fame's shrill trumpet ; for his pulse never 
beat so wildly with hope and enthusiasm before. 

He led Josephine to the altar according to revolu- 
tionary form, which was a simple presentation before 
the proper magistrate, March 9th, 1796. Barras and 
Tallien witnessed the ceremony, and signed with 
Lemarois, an aid-de-camp, and Calmelet, a lawyer, 
the act recorded in the state register of Paris. 

Twelve days later he bade adieu to his bride and 
was on his way to the plains of Italy — a parting that 
blended in one tide of strong emotion, the affection of 
an ardent, impetuous spirit, and the glowing desire to 
encircle his brow with laurels, that 

" would burn 



And rend his temples in return ; " 

and which would prove a crown of Upas to the fair 
forehead of the sorrowful Josephine. After a hasty 
visit with his mother, at Marseilles, of whom he always 
spoke with tender regard, he joined the suffering army 
at Nice. He rallied the drooping courage of brave 
men, and his accents caught with a resurrection 
power the ear of Augereau, Massena and Lannes, 
veterans in service, but disheartened by ranks of un- 
clad and hungry soldiers. He pointed to the opulent 
cities and beautiful fields beneath the shadow of the 
Alps which lay between them and his fifty thousand 
starving warriors, and disclosed with cheerful assu- 
rance, the project of crossing the cloud-mantled bar- 
rier. His successful march — his splendid victories, 
and his terrific devastation, are familiar to all readers 



112 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

of history. The national standard, within a year^ 
waved along the mountain defiles which had shel- 
tered the flower of the Austrian army, and over plains 
on which the disciplined columns had encamped se- 
curely ; while the name of Napoleon was heard from 
one side of the continent to the other. 

But his heart was true to Josephine, and turned 
from the spoils of victory and applause of millions, to 
meet the smile of her approval, and hear in fancy her 
accents of congratulation and love. Of the corres- 
pondence which passed during these stirring events, 
but little which is authentic, is preserved. The ex- 
travagant letters attributed to him, are doubted by 
judicious biographers, because so unlike his previous 
and subsequent communications, in the fulsome adu- 
lation, and approach at least, to bombast, for which 
they are distinguished. But it were not strange if at 
twenty-six, with a distant bride he had left so quickly, 
and covered with glory that would bewilder an aged 
conqueror, he did pour his raptures in language whose 
extravagance seems now the fond ravings of a happy 
lunatic, rather than the utterance of an intellect well 
poised as it was creative and mighty. 

Eugene soon joined his father-in-law, in the cam- 
paign, and won distinction for himself, grateful to 
Napoleon as it was flattering to the young soldier. 
This will appear in the subjoined notes originally fur- 
nished by Josephine. 

From General Bonaparte to his Wife. 
" My beloved Friend, — My first laural is due to 
my country'' ; my second shall be yours> While pres- 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 113 

sing Alvinzi, I thought of France ; when he was 
beaten, I thought of you. Your son will send you a 
scarf surrendered to him by Colonel Morback, whom 
he took prisoner with his own hand. You see, mad- 
am, that our Eugene is worthy of his father. Do not 
deem me altogether undeserving of having succeeded 
to that brave and unfortunate general, under whom I 
should have felt honored to have learned to conquer. 
I embrace you. " Bonaparte." 

The brevity and delicacy of feeling which are no- 
ticeable in the above, are in pleasant contrast with the 
effusion of the delighted and affectionate son, flushed 
with honors, and impatient for a wider field of action. 

From Colonel Eugene Beauharnais to 
HIS Mother. 

" My dear and respected Mother, — Detained 
at Lyons by business, I cannot resist my impatience 
to commune with you. I have been so fortunate as 
to perform, under the eye of General Bonaparte, an ac- 
tion which obtained his approbation, and has inspired 
me with a more honorable opinion of myself. In ta- 
king prisoner an Austrian lieutenant-colonel, I thought 
of my father ; I was seen by the general, and felt con- 
scious that you would applaud me. What motives 
to serve one's country ! These encouragements will 
at all times be the same, and they will ever possess 
the same influence over my heart. Hang up the scarf 
in your cabinet, under the portrait of my father, to 
whom, with you, I render this homage. As to the 
one woven and given me by Hortense, tell her it shall 
not easily be taken from the wearer. We intend to 



tl4 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

make the Austrians very prodigals in this respect, but 
are all resolved to continue towards them the same 
niggards as heretofore ! 

" Farewell, my good and gracious mother ! Eight 
days hence, and my noble gray shall be put to his 
mettle, as if with a bound I could place myself at 
your feet." 

Bourrienne, who admired the handsome colonel, 
wrote the following complimentary passage concern- 
ing him, then in his seventeenth year. " Eugene had 
an excellent heart, a manly courage, a prepossessing 
exterior with an obliging and amiable temper. His 
life is a matter of history ; and those who knew him 
will agree that his maturer years did not disappoint 
the promise of his youth. Already he displayed the 
courage of a soldier, and at a later period evinced the 
talent of a statesman." 

Napoleon having concluded the preliminaries of 
peace at Leoben, passed rapidly through the Yene- 
tian States to Milan, and fixed his residence at Mon- 
tebello, a delightful country-seat six miles from that 
city. Here Josephine, having arrived from Paris, 
began to enjoy what circumstances had hitherto de- 
nied her since her second marriage, the tranquility 
and joy of home. She won the affection and homage 
of the gay Milanese ; many lavished upon her atten- 
tions expressive of gratitude to the victor, whom they 
regarded as their liberator. Thus from pure admira- 
tion or motives of policy, all classes sought with en- 
thusiasm to honor the wife of Napoleon, and enhance 
the pleasures of her sojourn among the romantic 



LIFP: of JOSEPHINE. 115 

scenery of that country — whose southern boundary 
was beautiful and fallen Italy. But she soon became 
weary of the pomp and ceremony of what was to her, 
except in name, a splendid court. Balls and the 
drama, fetes and concerts, which she felt obliged to 
grace with her presence, were to her imaginative and 
sensitive nature the tiresome whirl of a dazzling pano- 
rama of vanishing views, and she longed for more 
elevated communion. She therefore went forth, and 
under a sky, which bent lovingly over her as when she 
was the charming Creole of Martinique, and looked 
upon the glorious summits, and unrivaled lakes that 
slept in their embrace. Her excursions to the Appe- 
nines, Lake Como, and especially to Lake Maggiore, 
afforded her refreshment of spirit and of frame. On 
the latter clear expanse, repose the Borromean Islands, 
celebrated by Tasso and Ariosto, in glowing language. 
These lie in a gulf, ornamented with tasteful dwei- 
Imgs, and terraced gardens, with the orange, citron 
and myrtle, to lend shade and beauty to the esplan- 
ade. In the distance the Alps lift their solemn brows 
into the azure, girdled with cultivated fields, mant- 
ling foliage, and glittering with ice -plains, that flash 
in the sunlight, like a motionless sea of diamonds. 
On the other side, is the open country, covered with 
vinyards, dotted with villages and cities, and pre- 
senting all the variety of picturesque landscape so 
attractive to the traveler in southern Europe. Jose- 
phine stood here entranced, like the Peri of this para- 
dise. At her feet lay the crystal waters, reflecting 
the green slopes, the mansions of wealth, and the 



116 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

wandering clouds ; while the white wings of distant 
sail boats passed each other on the bright undulations. 
Napoleon loved this resort, where the grand and 
beautiful encircled him, invested with associations 
of the glory of a former age. His expanding genius, 
and soaring ambition, Avere pleased with scenes 
that embellished the majestic heights guarding the 
land of his victories, and which were silent expo- 
nents of his own dawning greatness. Even in his 
social intercourse he manifested a consciousness of 
superiority — an isolation of character, in avoiding a 
disclosure of his purposes and feelings, while his pene- 
trating glance and admirable tact drew from others 
their very shade of changing thought. Josephine 
complains of this restless independence and distrust, 
v/hich withheld from her the unrestrained intercourse 
of confiding affection. There was in her a transpa- 
rent candor and lively sympathy. Napoleon doubtless 
feared ; for secrecy he well knew was his only secu- 
rity, while his movements which had the stamp of 
destiny, were under the inspection of a legion of pow- 
erful foes. And there is always connected with great 
genius an egoism, as the Germans term this self- 
reliance and irritability, which are unfavorable either 
to friendships or domestic fehcity. But far as any 
object besides the sceptre of the world could reign 
over his heart, Josephine had control, and was cher- 
ished in moments of rest from his stupendous plans, 
with the fondness of early attachment. He was ex- 
ceedingly kind to her son and daughter, both in cor- 
respondence, and projecting their advancement and 



LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 117 

happiness, in proportion to his own exaltation and 
resources of usefuhiess to friends. He was not desti- 
tute of deep emotion — nor a stranger to the better feel- 
ings of our nature ; and yet there was ever a conflict 
between these and the attainment of his chief good — 
the unquestioned pre-eminence of power which should 
overshadow a continent at least — a principle of action 
that in its legitimate result, would if possible map out 
the heavens, and give away to his favorites, the stars. 

One little incident illustrates his regard for his wife 
amid the stirring events that heralded his name, and 
betrays the same superstitious faith in omens she 
cherished. Isaby, a celebrated artist, painted a minia- 
ture of Josephine at the time of her marriage, which 
he constantly wore near his heart, in the feverish 
repose of his tent, and in the smoke of battle. When 
the war-cloud rolled away from the bed of the slain, 
and the shout of victory drowned the groans of the 
dying, with the pause of joy that succeeded to the 
conflict, he not unfrequently drew forth this talisman 
of his purest hopes and most rational delight, and then 
hastened to communicate the tidings of conquest to the 
original ; in which the expression once occurs, " In 
the contest I think of France, afterward of yow." By 
some accident it happened that the glass covering 
the picture was broken, and immediately the presenti- 
ment awakened that Josephine was dead — a solici- 
tude which was calmed only with the return of a 
courier sent to learn if she were among the living. 

When about quitting Milan for Rastadt, he pre- 
sented a flag to the Directory by General Joubert, the 
6* 



118 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE, 

messenger appointed for the occasion, on one side 
of which was the inscription, " To the army of Italy, 
the grateful country ; " on the other a condensed yet 
ambitious bulletin of his campaign : " One hundred and 
fifteen thousand prisoners ; one hundred and seventy 
standards ; five hundred and fifty pieces of battering 
cannon ; six hundred pieces of field artillery ; five 
bridge equipages ; nine sixty-four gun ships ; twelve 
thirty-two gun frigates ; twelve corvettes ; eighteen 
galleys ; armistice with the King of Sardinia ; con- 
vention with Genoa ; armistice with the Duke of Par- 
ma ; armistice with the King of Naples ; armistice 
with the Pope ; preliminaries of Leoben ; convention 
of Montebello with the republic of Genoa ; treaty of 
peace with the Emperor at Campo-Formio. 

'' Liberty given to the people of Bologna, Ferrara, 
Modena, Massa-Carrara, La Romagna, Lombardy, 
Bressera, Bormio, the Valletina, the Genoese, the 
Imperial Fiefs, the people of the departments of Cor- 
eigra, of the ^gean Sea, and of Ithaca. 'Sent to 
Paris all the master pieces of Michael Angelo, of Gen- 
ercino, of Titian, of Paul Veronese, of Correggio, of 
Albano, of Carracei, of Raphael, and of Leonardo da 
Vinei.' " 

But the Directory were in return for his success, 
envious of his popularity, which with the word Lib- 
erty^ was traversing the valleys, and echoing among 
the snow-crowned tops of the Alps and Appenines, 
and annoyed both himself and Josephine by the subtle 
vigilance of spies ; whose presence failed to obtain 
from either, treasonable or unlawful aspirations, with 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 119 

which to check by the interposition of authority the 
splendid course of this hero, whose youthful promise 
was that of bearing at length the prize alone in the 
Olympic games of blood, whose honors Kings and Gen- 
erals had struggled for, and alternately lost and won. 

Leaving Josephine and her family at Milan, he 
reached Mantua, celebrated the funeral of General 
Hoche, attended to the erection of a monument to the 
memory of Yirgii, then amid the acclamations of the 
people marched toward Rastadt. In addition to the 
portrait given incidently in the preceding narration 
of Napoleon's personal appearance, an additional ex- 
tract from a letter written at this time by an observer 
of the triumphal procession, is interesting, and has an 
air of fidelity in the description. 

'' I beheld with deep interest and extreme attention 
that extraordinary man who has performed such 
great deeds, and about whom there is something 
which seems to indicate that his career is not yet ter- 
minated. I found him very like his portrait, small in 
stature, thin, pale, with the air of fatigue, but not in 
ill health as has been reported. He appeared to me 
to listen with more abstraction than interest, as if occu- 
pied rather with what he was thinking of, than with 
what was said to him. There is great intelligence in 
his countenance, along with an expression of habitual 
meditation which reveals nothing of what is passing 
within. In that thinking head, in that daring mind, 
it is impossible not to suppose that some designs are 
enofenderinof which shall have their influence on the 
destinies of Europe." 



120 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

Already despising the weakness of the Directory, 
Bonaparte was elated and encouraged by the enthu- 
siasm of the people in the cherished determination to 
overthrow the wretched government, soon as the blow 
could be decisively given. This it would seem was 
a reason for the family arrangement which fixed the 
residence of Josephine and her children indefinitely at 
Milan, while he returned to the Capital to mature his 
plans ; thus keeping them away from the centre of 
danger should there in the event of rupture be a recoil 
of the rulers he scorned, upon himself. But there were 
restless, slanderous spirits, that ever haunt society, who, 
employed by Napoleon's brothers, in their jealously of 
his wife's influence, were eager for an opportunity to 
ruin her peace and torment her illustrious companion; 
It was rumored that her stay in Milan, was induced by 
a desire to shine in its gay chcles, and by her fascina- 
tion lead a train of princely admirers. Though utterly 
false, it was the commencement of detraction and sus- 
picion which poisoned the cup of pleasure and ap- 
plause. 

She was summoned to Paris, and the prelude to 
another long separation consequent upon the wide- 
ning field of the Commander's victories, was evidently 
clouded with an interruption of domestic tranquility, 
which but for the magic of her sincere devotion, in- 
spiring confidence and diffusing a subduing kindness, 
might have deepened into the gloom of a sad eclipse. 

An invasion of England had been in contemplation 
by Bonaparte, but the opposition of the Directory 
foiled his designs, and his own observation of the 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 121 

hazard of the enterprize, mduced hhn to abandon it 
for another. In these schemes his noble wife did 
much in obtaining influential friends to him in secu- 
ring their adoption. The expedition to Egypt was 
finally decided upon by the Directory, who were wil- 
ling to place the envied General in a command that 
would remove him to a dangerous climate, and perhaps 
rid them altogether of his dreaded pre-eminence. He 
received his appointment April 12th, 1798, and with a 
troop of a hundred Savans^ to gather antiquarian 
embellishments for the gallery of the Louvre, which he 
had already adorned by his contributions from the 
cabinets of Italy, and also to make scientific researches ; 
he hastened to Toulon to join his assembled army 
and magnificent fleet. 



CHAPTEE Y. 

Departure op Napoleon for Egypt. — The parting with Josephine at 
ToDLON. — She rbtirbs to Plombibres. — Accident.— Sends for Hor- 
TENSE. — Excursion Home. — Rare auALiTiES of Josephine's character. 
— Consequences of her confinement at Plomeieres. — Rumors of Napo- 
leon's disasters in Egypt. — Malmaison. — ^Josephine watched by se- 
cret enemies. — Charges of infidelity transmitted to Napoleon. — Her 
innocence vindicated. — maternal solicitude and faithfulness. — Na- 
poleon's RETURN TO FRANCE. — UNFORTUNATE MISTAKE. — HiS ANGEF.— ThB 

reconciliation. — France. 

On the 19th of May, the winds having driven his 
watchful enemy, Nelson, off the coast, Napoleon or- 
dered a hurried embarcation of his troops ; the an- 
chors were lifted and the squadron moved out of the 
harbor beneath the splendor of the rising sun. For 
six leagues along the Mediterranean shore, the grand 
armament in the form of a semicircle, unfurled its thou- 
sand snowy wings, and threw upon the breeze its 
gay streamers ; while the uniform of forty thousand 
" picked soldiers," reflected the unclouded beams of 
the ascending orb. Josephine, who accompanied the 
General-in-chief to Toulon, extorting a promise of 
permission to follow soon his fortunes in the east, 
gazed with a full heart upon the dazzling pageant. 
Amid all the magnificence of the spectacle, her eye 
followed alone the L' Orient, which bore a husband 



LIFE ©P JOSEPHINE. 123 

and son, whose farewell embrace still thrilled her sen- 
sitive frame, till its tall mast became a speck in the 
distance, and vanished like departing hope from her 
tearful gaze, beneath the horizon's rim. Yet there 
was the possibility of meeting her husband in accor- 
dance with the assurance given, among the ruins of 
Memphis and Thebes, which restored the dreams of 
a calmer, brighter future. She had a soul that soared 
like the sky-lark when the storm is past, and breathed 
the gentlest music of love, in the ear of whoever would 
listen. It was eminently her experience, that 

" Even through the shower 



Of tear-drops on life's way, 
The rainbow promises of hope 
Will dance, and make us gay." 

She retired, to Plombieres, celebrated for its springs, 
whose waters it was thought might give that tone of 
perfect health to her system. Napoleon ambitiously 
desired for the transmission of his accumulating hon- 
ors, and which she sought ardently for his sake. It 
was arranged that she should remain there until the 
arrival of the frigate from Egypt to convey her 
thither. But a melancholy accident again darkly 
overshadowed her prospects, and lengthened her stay 
into a captivity of several months. The scene is thus 
described by a biographer. 

" Madam Bonaparte, a few days after her arrival, 
was sitting one morning in the saloon at work, and 
conversing with the ladies of her society, among 
whom were Mesdames De Crigny, afterward mar- 
ried to the celebrated Denon, and De Cambes. The 



124 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 

latter, who was in the balcony entertaining the party 
with what passed in the street, expressed great admi- 
ration of a beautiful little dog which she observed 
below. Upon this, all eagerly rushed upon the bal- 
cony, which came down with a fearful crash. Hap- 
pily, no lives were lost ; but the unfortunate individ- 
ual who had been the innocent cause of the accident 
had her thigh-bone fractured, and Josephine herself 
was grievously bruised. The contusions on her 
hands and arms were so severe that for some time 
she had to be fed like an infant. Charvet, afterward 
steward of the household, who was at this time prin- 
cipal male domestic, happening to be in a room im- 
mediately above, hastened to the assistance of his 
mistress, and by his direction a sheep was instantly 
killed, and Madam Bonaparte wrapped up in the hide 
yet warm from the animal. By this simple remedy, 
not only was the present pain allayed, but a prepara- 
tion made for more scientific and fortunately success- 
ful treatment." 

Hortense was at Germain-en-Laye, a pupil in the 
boarding school of Madam Campan ; where she was 
admired for a character which combined with amia- 
bility, a dash of that independence of feeling and 
action, always exhibited by her lamented father. Mes - 
sengers were sent to bring her to Plombieres to enli- 
ven the solitude of Josephine ; tidings that made her 
young heart bound with rapture. . Though success- 
ful in scholarship,, her laugh rang out as she cast 
aside her books, or turned from the prison of girlhood, 
to theshaded laA\Tiand the carriage waiting at the gate^ 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 125 

for a ride into the beautiful country with its free air 
and music — and toward the being upon whose bosom 
her affections set in an unbroken tide. Among the 
anecdotes related of this excursion is the following : 
While lazily traveling through one of those dark 
forests distinguished for wild traditions and tragical 
robberies, her companions, in musing mood had fal- 
len into a dreamy se7)ii-sof?molence, when a startling 
report suddenly aroused them ; with alarm they gazed 
into the shadowy twilight to behold the armed brig- 
ands. But fragrant drops flooding the perspiration 
excited by fear, and a merry shout, dispelled the be- 
wildering apprehension. Hortense had exploded a 
bottle of champaign in the faces of the sleepers, and 
its foam instead of burning powder discolored their 
pallid features. Then the old woods gave back the 
echoes of mirth, and the very wheels seemed to re- 
volve more rapidly to accord with the ringing glad- 
ness. And when she was clasped in a mother's em- 
brace, the same silver tones repeated her name, and a 
full fountain poured tears of joy upon the fair fore- 
head whose marble was mantling with the glow of 
returning health. 

There is no aspect of Josephine's history which fails 
to display the fine outline of a pure minded and re- 
markable woman. Though her emotions were strong 
and intense, her clear judgment shone upon every 
emergency, and in the performance of every duty. 
In the education of her own and other children — in 
directing the affairs of Napoleon's domestic relations, 
there was that rapid survey of the various responsi- 



126 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 

bilities imposed, and decision in doing", which the 
great Chieftain so subhmely manifested on the vast 
battle-field of nations. A single letter will shed ad- 
ditional light on this peculiar excellence ; written rela- 
tive to the discipline of a niece also under Madam 
Campan — while it contains valuable suggestions for 
the consideration of youth : — 

" My Dear Madam Campan, — With my niece, 
whom I return to your charge, receive also my thanks 
and my reproof. The former are due for the great 
care and brilliant education which you have bestow- 
ed upon the child ; the latter for the faults which your 
sagacity must have discovered, but which your indul- 
gence has tolerated. The girl is gentle, but shy ; 
well informed, but haughty ; talented, but thought- 
less ; she does not please, and takes no pains to ren- 
der herself agreeable. She conceives that the reputa- 
tion of her uncle and the bravery of her father are 
every thtng. Teach her, and that by the severest 
means, how absolutely unavailing are those qualities 
which are not personal. We live in an age where 
each is the author of his own fortunes ; and if those 
who serve the state in the first ranks ought to have 
some advantages and enjoy some privileges, they 
should on that account strive only to render themselves 
more beloved and more useful. It is solely by acting 
thus that they can have some chance of excusing 
their good fortune in the eyes of envy. Of these 
things, my dear Madam Campan, you must not allow 
my niece to remain ignorant, and such are the instruc- 
tions which in my name you should repeat to her con- 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 127 

stantly. It is my pleasure that she treat as equals 
every one of her companions, most of whom are better 
or as good as herself, their only inferiority consisting 
in not having relations so able or so fortunate." 

The impressive fact that an unexpected and re- 
gretted occurrence is often the pivot on which life and 
destiny turn, is apparent in the annals of distinguish- 
ed as well as humble individuals. An invisible hand 
is seen in these transitions which change the direction 
of events influencing personal existence forever, and 
aflecting sometimes the interests of an empire, and cf 
the world. The frigate Pomona, which was to con- 
vey Josephine to the Pyramids, and had before borne 
her from her native island to France, fell into the hands 
of the English ; and had she taken passsge at the 
time proposed, she would have been carried a captive 
to England — changing the condition of things entirely 
with her, and perhaps indirectly the struggle with 
a haughty realm, whose prowess at length crushed the 
arbiter of Kingly quarrels and the almoner of thrones. 
Napoleon's triumphs followed by terrible reverses, 
which brought his army to the brink of ruin, gave rise 
to rumors of his defeat, and even assassination, that 
tortured the heart of Josephine with suspense. She is 
said to have overheard one day, Le Tour of the Di- 
rectory, remark, " That is the wife of that scoundrel 
Bonaparte ; if he is not dead for Europe, he is, at 
least, for France." Many of her former friends during 
this period of disaster, were less attentive ; an indi- 
cation of faithlessness which her disinterested spirit 
felt keenly as the point of a traitor's weapon among 



128 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

the nerves of her delicate form. She purchased Mal- 
maison, and quietly spent the subsequent months of 
Bonaparte's absence — " exiled in her own domain." 

These estates antecedently belonged to the nation- 
al lands, whose rural beauty and picturesque views, 
attracted the admiration of Josephine soon after the 
death of Beauharnais, when anxious to secure a her- 
mitage for herself and a refuge for her children. By 
the intervention of her unfailing friend, Barras, the re- 
formed terrorist, who had obtained a restoration in 
part of the Viscount's property, she nearly completed 
the purchase, when a new phase of revolution, and 
his earnest persuasion, made her the wife of Napole- 
on. Her indebtedness to this influential Director, and 
the grateful acknowledgement whish flowed sponta- 
neously when kindness was experienced, are express- 
ed in her own sensible and simple style, in a note 
written to him, while negotiating for a title to this at- 
tractive country residence. 

''To Citizen Barras, 
^^ Member of the Executive Directory. 
*' Sir, — Nothing could be more agreeable than the 
statement in your letter ; yet few things could have 
less surprised me. I know your influence, and more 
especially your zeal. I felt assured of your interest ; 
and was not less confident of your success. Thus 
I find myself certain of possessing a refuge ; and, 
thanks to the benevolence whose delicacy enhances 
the benefit, that asylum accords with my wishes. 
There I can resign my heart to its tastes — tastes 
peaceable and pure — which in the days of prosperity I 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 129 

cultivated through caprice or from fashion, but which 
I now cherish from predilection. With them I have 
also inspired my children : in these they have already 
experienced the amusement of their early years, and 
there they will continue to seek the enjoyment of ma- 
turer age. Heirs of a proscribed sire, modesty and 
obscurity suit both their desires and their condition. 
The way of life upon which we are to enter at Mai- 
maison befits in all respects our inclinations and situ- 
ation ; and, notwithstanding immense losses, if the 
father of my children survived, I should not have a 
single wish to form. But had he lived, should I have 
known you? should I have been unfortunate? or 
should I have experienced how much benevolence 
may soothe the unhappy? Each situation of life 
must be taken with all its chances ; the most painful 
may thus, perhaps, still exhibit something favorable, 
and of that, good sense consists in making the most. 
It is easy, will be the remark, to talk thus, when pas- 
sion no longer agitates. I have undergone the ordeal 
— a course of suffering, when for many months, I 
could not even conceive one day of gladness. I had 
then only a choice of misfortunes. I believe them 
passed ; and what you are now doing for me renews 
my life. In devoting it to solitude, to study, and to 
the education of my children, I shall consecrate it to 
our tranquil happiness and to our unalterable grati- 
tude." 

But the years that were anticipated with subdued 
feeling, as devoted to seclusion, had gone full of 
astonishing change^ bringing her forward upon the 



130 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 

foreground of a drama, that rivited the observation of 
man wherever the radiating hnes of communication 
carried the bulletin of European war. And now ex- 
pecting the return of Napoleon, who had gained and 
lost new laurels beneath the frown of the pyramids 
and of consecrated Tabor, dipped in the blood of the 
brave Mamelukes, Egypt's best forces, and the deci- 
mated ranks of the " Army of the East " — Josephine 
resolved to prepare a home for the fugitive chieftain, 
whom she had learned to love for his own sake, how- 
ever her woman's pride, may have been flattered by 
the splendor of his renown. She therefore embel- 
lished Malmaison with reference to his taste, and 
lived in the enjoyment of a select society, embracing 
members of the Directory, over whom her influence 
was always in behalf of the proscribed and unfortvi- 
nate, impatiently awaiting his arrival to the shores of 
France. But vigilant foes haunted the mansion of per- 
secuted innocence, to fabricate reports unfavorable to 
her fidelity, with which to inflame the jealousy of 
her imperious husband. The Bonaparte family were 
leagued against her, and every circumstance that 
would admit of doubtful import touching her virtue, 
was carefully recorded for the deadly thrust at her 
reputation. The difiiculty of transmitting letters gave 
her no opportunity to make a defence against the ac- 
cusations that reached Napoleon. She was of course 
under cruel suspicion, while the energies of her intel- 
lect and graces of person were employed to keep un- 
blemished his name, and prepare the way for advan- 
cing measures he suggested before his departure, or 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 131 

during the expedition. The baseness of Jimot affected 
her deeply, and she made a last appeal to the honor 
and sympathy of the alienated sovereign of her heart 
which ought to have moved the bitteiest enemy to 
tenderness and reconciliation. 

Josephine to General Bonapap^te. 

" Can it be possible, my friend ? is the letter indeed 
yours which I have just received ? Scarcely can I 
give it credence, on comparing the present with those 
now before me, and to which your love gave so many 
charms ! My eyes cannot doubt that those pages 
which rend my heart are too surely yours ; but my soul 
refuses to admit that yours could have dictated those 
lines, which to the ardent joy experienced on hearing 
from you, have caused to succeed the mortal grief of 
reading the expressions of displeasure, the more af- 
flicting to me that it must have proved a source of 
fearful pain to you. 

'' I am wholly ignorant in what I can have offended, 
to create an enemy so determined to ruin my repose 
by interrupting yours ; but surely it must be a grave 
reason which can thus induce some one unceasingly 
to renew against me calumnies of such a specious 
nature as to be admitted, even for a moment, by one 
who hitherto has deemed me worthy of his entire 
affection and confidence. These two sentiments aie 
necessary to my happiness ; and if they were so 
speedily to be refused me, ah ! why was I ever made 
sensible of the delight of possessing them? Far 
better would it have been for me never to have 
known you ! 



132 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

" When I first became acquainted with you, over- 
whelmed in sadness from the sorrows that had over- 
taken mcj I beUeved it impossible that I should ever 
again feel a sentiment approaching to love. The 
scenes of blood I had witnessed, and whose victim 
I had been, pursued me every where. Such were 
the causes which prevented apprehension in often 
meeting you : little did I imagine that I could for a 
single instant fix your choice. As did all the world, 
I admired your genius and your talents : more truly 
than any other did I foresee your coming glory ; but 
notwithstanding all this I was unmoved — loving you 
only for the services you had rendered to my country. 
You should have left me to cherish this admiration, 
and not have sought to render it impassioned, by em- 
ploying those means of pleasing, which you above all 
men possess, if, so soon after having united your des- 
tiny to mine, you were to regret the felicity which you 
alone had taught me to enjoy. 

^' Do you believe that it is possible for me ever to 
forget your cares and your love ? Think you I can 
ever become indifferent about one who sweetens 
existence by all that is delightful in passion ? Can 
I ever efface from my memory your kindness to Hor- 
tense — your counsel and example to Eugene ? If this 
appear to you impossible, how can you suspect me 
of being interested for a single moment in what is 
alien to you? 

'' Oh ! my friend, in place of lending an ear to 
imposters, who, from motives whicli 1 explain not, 
seek to ruin our happiness, why do you not rather 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 133 

reduce them to silence, by the recital of your benefits, 
to a woman whose character has never incurred the 
suspicion of ingratitude? On hearing what you 
have done for my children, my traducers would be 
silent, since they must knoAv that, as a mother, I 
first became attached to you. Since that event, so 
dear to my remembrance, your conduct, admired as 
it has been throughout the whole of Europe, has, in 
my heart, but awakened deeper adoration of the hus- 
band who made choice of me, poor as I was, and 
unhappy. Every step which you take adds to the 
splendor of the name I bear — and is such a moment 
seized to persuade you that I no longer love you. 
What absurdity — or rather vv^hat viicness on the 
part of your companions, jealous as they are of 
your marked superiority- Yes, my friend, I love you 
with a sincerity known well, even to those who assert 
the contrary. They must be conscious of wronging 
me, for several times I have vv^ritten to them in order 
thus to hear of you, to entreat them to watch over 
you, and by their affection to console you for the ab- 
sence of your/rie?^^." finally, to keep me informed 
of every thing connected with you. But how have 
these people acted, who pretend such devotion, in 
whom you confide, and according to whose report 
you judge me with inconceivable injustice ? They 
conceal from you whatever might lessen the pain of 
absence ; they take advantage of your suspicious 
character in order to create disquietudes that may in- 
duce you to quit a country which they detest ; and 
the more they irritate you, the better they are pleased. 



/ 



134 LIFE OF JOSEPHJNE. 

Such is the light in which things appear to me, while 
you are deceived regarding their perfidious intentions. 
Believe me, my friend, so soon as you ceased to be 
their equal you became their foe ; your victories even 
are but so many motives for their hating you. 

"I know these intrigues, although I disdain to 
avenge myself by naming men whom I despise, but 
whose valour and abilites may be useful to you in the 
grand enterprise so happily commenced. On your 
return I Avili disclose the secret, and show you who 
are those envious of your glory. But no — when we 
are united once again, I shall forget all the evil which 
they would have wrought me, to remember only the 
exertions which they may have made in your service. 

" It is true, I see much company, for every one 
strives to be foremost in complimenting me on your 
success, and I confess I have not the resolution to 
shut my door against any one who comes to speak of 
you. My male writers are very numerous ; they 
comprehend your daring achievements better than 
women ; they talk with enthusiasm of your noble 
deeds, while at the same time they cannot complain 
of your having taken with you their spouse, their 
brother, or their father. Women fall upon these sub- 
jects, and when they do not praise you, they do not 
please me. Still it is among my own sex that I can 
find those whose heart and understanding I prefer to 
all, because their friendship for you is sincere. Of 
these I place first the names of the acccmplished 
ladies D' Aiguillon, Tallien, and my aunt. These 
are my intimates — I never quit them. — and they will 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 135 

tell you, ungrateful as thou art, if I have thought 'of 
playing the coquette with all the world.^ These are 
your own expressions, and they would be odious to 
me, were I not certain that you have disavowed, and 
at this moment are sorry for having written them. 

" I tremble when I think of the dangers which sur- 
round you, of more than half of which I should be igno- 
rant, did not Eugene reiterate his requests to me to 
write you not to expose yourself to perils, and to take 
more care of a life, not only dear to your family and 
your friends, but upon which hangs the destiny of 
your brethren in arms, and thousands of brave fol- 
lowers who could have courage to endure so many 
fatigues while under your eye alone. Let me con- 
jure you, my friend, not to exceed your strength, and to 
listen less to your own daring than to the counsels of 
those who love you. Berthier, Bourrienne, Eugene, 
Caffarelli, less ardent, may also sometimes see more 
clearly. They are devoted to you ; listen, then, to 
them, hut to them only — you understand me ?— then 
both you and I will be happier. 

'' Here I receive honors which sometimes cause me 
embarrassment. Besides, being little accustomed to 
such homage, I see they displease our authorities^ 
who, always distrustful and apprehensive of losing 
their power, are ever on the watch. Disregard these 
people^ you will say ; but my friend, they will en- 
deavor to hurt you ; they will accuse you of seek- 
ing to lessen their power ; and I should be grieved to 
contribute in aught to a jealously which your tri- 
umphs sufficiently justify. When you shall return 



136 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

covered with laurels, good heavens ! what will they 
doj if already they are on the rack ! I cannot calcu- 
late where their resentment will stop ; but then you 
will be by my side, and I shall feel secure. 

" Let us think no more of them, nor of your suspi- 
cions, which I will not refute one by one, because 
they are all equally devoid of probability. But to 
repose from disagreeables, let me conclude with some 
details which will interest you, because they affect me. 

'' Hortense, that she may console me so far as de- 
pends upon her, employs all her little heart to conceal 
her fears on your account and her brother's, and puts 
in requisition all the resources of her mind, in order 
to dissipate that sadness — to you so dubious — which 
yet never leaves me. By her talent, and the charms 
of her conversation, she sometimes contrives to call 
up a smile, then, in her joy, she exclaims, ' Dear 
tnamma^ they shall know that in Cairo ! ' Cairo ! 
the name instantly reminds me of the distance which 
separates me from my husband, and my son — and 
my griefs returns. I am thus obliged, by great eifort 
to dissemble with my daughter, who by a word — a 
look even — transports me to those scenes whence she 
would view my reflections. 

" In the graces of her person, Hortense improves 
daily ; she dresses with taste ; and certainly with- 
out being nearly so beautiful as your sisters, she could 
hardly fail to please even when they are present. 
My good aunt passes her life in suffering, without 
complaint, consoling the afflicted, talking to me of 
you, and making verses. As for me, I beguile the 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 137 

time in writing to you, listening to your praises, or 
reading the journals where your name occurs in every 
page. I am ever thinking of you ; now transporting 
myself to the time when I shall see you every hoiu' — 
now plunged in sorrow at the thoughts of the space 
which must elapse before your return ; and when I 
thus conclude, I again begin. Are these the signs 
of indifference? I wish for none others on your 
part ; and if you feel thus for me, I shall not think 
myself altogether an object of pity, despite the small 
slanders which they would fain have me credit re- 
specting a certain fair o)ie, who, they tell me, interests 
you deeply. Why should I doubt you ? You assure 
me I am beloved. I judge of you by my own heart — 
and I believe you. 

" God knows when or where this letter may reach 
you : may it restore to you a repose which you ought 
never to have foregone, and, more than ever give you 
an assurance, that, while I live, you will be dear to 
me as on the day of our last separation. Farewell, 
my only friend ! Confide in me — love me, and receive 
a thousand tender caresses." 

It is not certain this kind expostulation was re- 
ceived by Bonaparte before he fled from the land of his 
misfortunes. It was stated some years since in the 
published journal of a Baroness, that Josephine con- 
templated a divorce, and actually consulted M. de 
Cantalen of the administration, on the subject. In- 
terruption of correspondonce — inexcusable coolness 
— and credited reports of gallantries with the wife of 
a subordinate officer in Cairo — are the reasons which 



138 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

may be assigned, if such an event was desired by her, 
whose deUcacy and devotion it strikes one, were in 
themselves an assurance that she would rather per- 
ish clinging to the wreck of her happiness, than make 
s/ so daring an effort to escape with nothing but life. 
However this, at the suggestion of those with whom 
she conferred, the subject was speedily dismissed, if it 
had been entertained by her, and she strove to beguile 
the hours in decorating her new abode, cultivating 
flowers, bestowing kindnesses on the peasantry, and 
seizing every means to promote the pleasure and im- 
provement of her children. An extract or two from a 
letter to Eugene gives a beautiful picture of the last 
occupation, in her allusions to Hortense. 

" It is impossible to give you an idea even of her 
amiableness in this respect, nor of half her affectionate 
contrivances to beguile us of our anxieties. Love her, 
my son, for she forms my consolation, and is devoted 
to you. She continues her studies with great success, 
but music, I am inclined to believe, will prove the ac- 
complishment in which she is destined to excel. Her 
agreeable voice, now much improved, and the style of 
her execution, will greatly surprise you. I have just 
purchased for her a piano, the excellence of which 
seems to have redoubled her passion for your favorite 
art — a preference probably not a little contributing to 
your sister's predilection. 

'' If you were here, you would a hundred times a 
day advise me to take care of the men who offer at- 
tentions to Hortense, in a manner sufficiently marked. 
There are some very urgent in their addresses, who 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 139 

are no favorites of yours, and whom yon apprehend 
she may prefer. Reassure yourself on that point ; she 
is somewhat of a coquette, and enjoys her success by 
tormenting her victims ; but her heart is free. I am 
the confidant of all her thoughts and sentiments ; 
these are ever as they should be. She knows that 
henceforth my consent alone will not suffice in the 
question of marriage, and that my wishes even will be 
determined by his to whom we owe all. This will 
guard her against any choice which would not be ap- 
proved of by Bonaparte, and he will never bestov/ your 
sister's hand save on a brother-in-arms, as seems also 
to be your desire." 

But nothing could shield her devoted form from the 
blasts of adversity, which beat the more wildly after 
a flattering pause in their wrath. She was even ac- 
cused of extravagance, and compelled to loaeei from the 
distmgue who were unweariedly attentive while the 
star of Napoleon was in the clear ascendant, cruel con- 
tempt soon as it passed under the wing of a cloud, as 
if it had fallen from heaven forever. Talleyrand 
stained his honor as a true gentleman in this particu- 
lar, by a public expression of indifference at the man- 
sion of Barras, just before Bonaparte trod again the 
soil of his adoption. The statesman little dreamed 
that the flying Corsican then on the solitary deep, 
would step so quickly on a shore which would rock 
to his very foot-fall, as to the tramp of an earthquake. 

Gohier, President of the Directory, on the 9th of 
November 1799, gave a splendid levee, embracing the 
noble and the beautiful of the Capital. Josephine was 



140 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

a guest, though more a spectator than participant in 
the festivity of the brilliant occasion. The gifted being 
to whom her tides of feeling in their deepest channel, 
however dark or shining the surface — however black 
or beaming the skies above — were as obedient as the 
sea to the changeful moon, was a wanderer among 
the dead and dying of his unrivaled army, or perhaps 
gazing in vain upon the Avide waters for a friendly 
bark to bear him away. The ample entertainment 
went forward — the viands disappeared, and the wine 
Clip became the inspiration of wit, and the pledge of 
affection. But while the converse of excited genius 
rang out in sparkling repartee, and beauty smiled, 
suddenly the eye of Gohier was arrested by a tele- 
graphic line, which checked his gayety, and held 
the throng in suspense. Vv^ith a serious air, he re- 
peated the announcement — ^^Bonajjarte landed this 
viorning at FrejusP The strange silence of that 
startled assembly, was no less marked than when the 
first peal of a rising storm and its shadows cast be- 
fore, hushes into stillness the amphitheatre of nature, 
which rang v/ith the music and glee of spring-time. 

There was a blending of vague apprehension, and 
wonder, and hope. The multitude during his former 
campaigns, had begun to regard the rapid and almost 
miraculous exertions of that intellect, embodied in ac- 
tion that dwarfed all the great of antiquity into com- 
mon men, with mysterious awe ; and his unexpected 
appearance on the theatre he seemed to have deserted 
and lost, sent a wave of surprise and agitation over 
these rejoicing hearts, and with the morning light 
over millions more. 



LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 141 

Josephine rose upon hearing the inteUigence, and 
with suppressed emotion whispered an adieu to those 
about her, and retired. Her design was instantly- 
formed of meeting him on his way to Paris ; not only 
to hail his return, but efface from his mind a doubt of 
her fidelity, before it was graven more deeply by the 
enmity of those who envied her influence, and would 
rob her of her honors. Accompanied by Hortense, or 
as is affirmed by some writers, Louis Bonaparte, she 
hastened with the speed of a courier, toward Lyons. 
But the General had avoided the direct route she trav- 
eled, and passed her of course without the knowledge 
of either. Alarmed, she flew with all possible speed 
to the metropolis ; but she was too late — the hour of 
midnight which brought her to their city residence, 
was one of desolating sorrow. Napoleon had found 
his home a solitude, and the impression this unaccount- 
able desertion, relieved only by the gathering mem- 
bers of the Bonaparte family, made upon his spirit 
stained with jealousy, and worn by the sufferings of 
his sad adventure, was fearful, and never forgotten. 
It is not strange the sobbing wife was sent without 
recognition to her apartment, to weep away the night 
in agony. There may be some apology for him in 
the fact that society in decay had weakened his faith 
in the morality of the elite^ and his thorough knowl- 
edge of men rendered him sceptical whenever self in- 
terest was the stake, with regard to apparent inno- 
cence, or circumstantial evidence against deeds which 
his own experience assured him might tarnish the es- 
cutcheon of the renowned. His estimate therefore of 



14B LIFE OF JOSEPHINE, 

human nature was not high, for he found it a pliable 
thing beneath his moulding hand, and the multitude 
were his creatures, playing their part in his elevation to 
disguised royalty ; Avhich like a distant summit robed 
with cloud, was mistaken for something that they 
admired, and towards which they were impatiently 
struggling, to find protection and repose. 

He sternly refused to see Josephine, who with a 
bosom bleeding, waited the result of her children's 
eloquence and tears. Two long, dreary days wore 
away — the wrathful deep of a mighty mind was tran- 
quil again — and the gentle words of Hortense, and her 
swimming eye, with the manly yet touching entreaty 
of Eugene, restored the wonted tenderness of his bet- 
ter moods. He stole into her room, and found the 
wife of his youth in the attitude of inconsolable grief. 
Leaning upon the table, her face was buried in her 
hands — the warm tears were dropping from her deli- 
cate fingers upon the letters he had written in the 
fulness of affection, while convulsive sobs alone dis- 
turbed the stillness. He gazed a moment, and with 
quivering lip, murmured ^^ Josephine f^^ She looked 
up with her soul in the expression, and reading in his 
pale countenance the evidence of a milder frame, said 
sweetly, " 77i07t aTni ! " — the familiar language of love. 
He silently extended his hand, and she was once 
more welcomed to the embrace and confidence of 
Napoleon. 

He now lived for the most part in retirement ; di- 
viding the hours between domestic society, and that 
profound contemplation with which he always ma- 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 143 

tured his magnificent schemes. He vahied, and 
cheerfLilly acknowledged the discriminating judg- 
ment and observation of Josephine, both during his 
absence, in Egypt, and while enjoying that prelude 
to the eventful changes which soon after paved his 
way to a throne. 

He found France retrograding in every respect. 
The Congress of Rastadt had resulted in the assassi- 
nation of French plenipotentiaries, and open war. 
Suwarrow with his battalions, had overswept Italy, 
and taken from him his miniature republics. On 
nearly all of the national boundaries the foe hung 
menacingly, glorying over the spoils of victory, and 
to complete the discord and danger, the Directory 
distracted by the conflict of royalty with extreme re- 
publicanism, was the centralization of anarchy and 
imbecility rather than of power and dignity. There 
was necessarily almost universal discontent, and in 
place of appalling terrorism, poor France turned witii 
disgust from the oppressive mockery of a Republic. 

"The sensual and the dark rebel in vain, 
Slaves by their own compulsion ! in mad game 
They burst their manacles, and wear the name 
Of Freedom, graven on a heavier chain f^ 



CHAPTEE YL 

Napoleon's desigs. — Josephine's political views.— Eugene,— Conviviai, 
SCENES. — The 18th Brumaire.— Napoleon Fikst Consul. — The result 
— MuRAi's marriage. — His treachery. — Josephine's meditation. — Life 
IN THE Tuilleries.— Josephine. — Bonaparte. — He orders the improve- 
ment OP Malmaison. — Escapes assassination. — Again ckosses the 
Alps.— Battle of Marengo.— Relaxation at Malmaison.— Josephine's 
benevolence.— Conspiracy and the Infernal Machine. — Marriage op 
Hortense. — Character of Louis Eonapakte.— Person and character 
OF Hortense. — Incidents by the way. — Important events. — Peace of 
Amiens. — Gayety of the People.— Home of the Consul. — Renewal 
OF hostilities with England.— Accident,— Napoleon's view of death. 

France, as we have seen, was ripe for change. 
Napoleon was not only conscious of this, but found 
in the enthusiasm of the nation which hailed his land- 
ing at Frejus, where the very laws of quarantine were 
set aside, and he was borne as the people's idol to the 
city, and which made his journey to the capital one 
scene of excitement and willing homage, that the 
popular feeling was moving towards him, and deliv- 
erance expected from his genius and resistless force 
of character. 

The overthrow of a goverment justly despised for its 
intrigues and failures in the fulfilment of pledges to 
the masses, and the welfare of the country so far as 
attainable in connexion with his exaltation upon its 
ruins, was now the purpose of this wonderful man, 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 145 

Still in the maturity of youth. Fie first aspired to a 
seat ill the Directory, where he could lay his hand 
upon that miwieldly engine of power, and give it the 
momentum of his own, in human affairs, omnipotent 
will, and the direction of his sublimely insatiate am- 
bition. But his age interposed a hopeless barrier, be- 
sides the opposition of those in office who hated him 
for his renown, and trembled at the mention of his 
name. Instead therefore of supplanting Sigas at the 
head of the Directory, a reconciliation between these 
political foes was effected, and Napoleon resolved to 
use with his cautious policy v/hat he could not openly 
control. Under the reserve of an unsocial manner, 
an I the secrecy of private life, he concealed his com- 
plicated plan of attack on the constitution, and waited 
with restless ardor for the decisive stroke. 

Josephine did not enter fully into his love of glory, 
which in its boundlessness was like a fascinating and 
ungovernable madness, nor even adopt tlie sentiments 
of any of the republican factions. She leaned rather 
towards royalty/", whose last representative in the 
person of Louis XVI., and Maria Antoinette, she 
admired. Contrasting his reign, the corruption of 
his Court, and the sufferings of his subjects, with 
the bloodshed, terror and lawlessness that followed 
his dethronement, there was on the surface of things 
more to condemn than approve in the civil war which 
was raged in the name of liberty. 8he naturally 
turned with pleasure to the years of tranquility, and 
in her weariness of tumult and anarchy, preferred the 
shadow of a monarchy to the misrule of corrupt free- 



146 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

men. This predilection for the Bourbons was appa- 
rent in her effort^ to rescue the proscribed adherents of 
the fallen dynasty, and her intimacies with the noblesse 
who still lingered in France as memorials of an an- 
cient line — the exponents of a vanishing yet venera- 
ble and splendid aristocracy. Among these familiar 
friends, was Madam de Montesson, widow of the Duke 
d' Orleans, whose sympathies were with the exiled 
members of the King's family altogether ; and Jose- 
phine's generous nature was also touched by the great- 
ness of their calamity. In the mean time, Eugene 
was making fast atonement for his self-denial in the 
East, by dashing without restraint into the pleasures 
of the metropolis, shining in the gay circles, and at 
military fetes. He was a republican as far as was 
agreeable to Napoleon, to whom he looked for the 
opportunity of gathering additional laurels, and aug- 
menting his means of sensual enjoyment He was 
a man of mind and heart, but aspiring, and devoted 
to the intoxication of convivial excitement, whenever 
an interlude in the battle-march occurred. His ap- 
pearance and manner of employing such leisure, are 
thus pleasantly described by a writer. 

" Without being handsome, there was something 
extremely prepossessing in his frank and manly coun- 
tenance. His stature, though small (not exceeding 
five feet four inches.) displayed a form active and 
well knit, though somewhat deficient in dignity, from 
a mincing gait — a youthful affectation which, how- 
ever, disappeared with the firmness and responsibili- 
ties of manhood and high enterprise. At this time, 



LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 147 

his chief amusement— one, too, not altogether with- 
out an object— -was to give splendid breakfasts to the 
young officers of his own standing. At these enter- 
tainments, some amusing plot, such as is common 
among young people, was constantly occurring. Of 
these adventures Eugene was in the habit of giving 
entertaining recitals to his mother, and often to his 
father-in-law, who laughed very heartily at such dis- 
plays, one or two of which may, therefore, be men- 
tioned, on the report of an eye-witness. Ventriloquism 
was about this time, attracting notice in Paris, through 
the performances of Thiemet, afterward so famous a 
professor of the art. One morning, when a gay circle 
of young officers breakfasted with Eugene, first one, 
then another, heard himself distinctly called out of 
the room, by the voice of his serving-man, until the 
the whole party had, in turn, made a fruitless expe- 
dition down stairs. Each returned more amazed than 
another : and it was finally resolved to sally forth in 
a body. Thiemet, who, not personally known, save 
as a guest, to any of the party, had all this time con- 
tinued quietly seated at the table, opening his lips only 
to eat or drink, functions which he seemed to perform 
with great address, now rose to assist in the search of 
the invisible serving men. No sooner had the party 
reached the hall, than the calls, all apparently from 
different quarters, were repeated ; each scampered off 
in various pursuit of the supposed culprits, crying out, 
' Here ! here's the rascal ! ' till, in the inextricable 
confusion, Eugene's loud laugh discovered the whole 
plot. The greater part received it ' as a passably ex- 



148 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

cellent joke ; ' but some there were disposed to bestow 
the chastisement of the innocent valets on the guiUy 
professor. 'Nay, nay, gentlemen,' interposed Eu- 
gene, ' my friend Thiemet is not to blame ; if you 
carmot forgive a frolic, the quarrel is mine.' Upon 
this a second adjournment was made to the break- 
fast-table, and Thiemet restored good-humor by 
equally extraordinary, but less offensive, displays of 
his powers." 

But with Bonaparte, matters were hastening to an 
issue that would surprise the nation and astonish the 
v/orld. The deceptive quietude that reigned in the 
routine of his unostentatious movements, resembled the 
hush of the elements when mustering for battle — the 
pause of the fiery wave that rocks the earth before 
it shakes dome and tower from their base, marking 
a new epoch of physical history with the fragments 
it has laid in the dust. On the very morning of 
the 18th Brumaire, (Nov. 9th, 1799,) the house of 
Napoleon was the arena of festivity. The author 
above quoted, has recorded the singular introduction 
to events so awakening and abiding in deciding the 
destinies of Europe. 

'• While the meeting of general officers took place 
in the Rue Chantereine — now Victoire — and Jose- 
phine expected the president, Gohier, to breakfast, her 
son held also, one of his entertainments, for which 
preparations had been made nearly a week before. 
Those invited consisted exclusively of young officers, 
and their meeting was gay as usual, but far more nu- 
merous. Among the guests, one, distinguished for 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 149 

his powers of mimicry, created infinite amusement to 
his companions, by successfnl caricatures of the 
members of the Directory. To exhibit, for instance, 
the person and demeanor of one, he dressed himself 
in a table-cloth, draped a la Grecque^ stripped his 
black stock, rolled back his shirt-collar, and advanced 
witli many aifected graces, leaning his left arm on 
the shoulder of a younger companion, and with his 
right hand stroking his chin. ' Barras ! Barras ! ' 
shouted his comrades, thus crowning his exhibi- 
tion with loud applause. But the representation is 
changed : enter again the young soldier, but scarcely 
to be recognized, his cravat stuffed with a huge roll 
of paper, his visage chalked into squalid paleness, 
and elongated to a most rueful length. With all this 
meagerness in the requisites of an aimable, he makes 
it appear that he aspires to pass for accomplished, 
and seizing a chair, after making some awkivard 
caracoles, as if on horseback, down comes the cav- 
alier with a heavy fall. Shouts of ' Sieyes — the 
prick-eared abbe,' resounds from all corners of the 
rooms, and the officer rises to join in the ridicule 
which he has excited. Sieyes was at this time ac- 
tually taking lessons at the riding-school in the 
Luxembourg ! The breakfast was thus an excellent 
training for the grenadier charge in the hall of the 
deputies, and Eugene knew well what he was about. 
After appointing a rendezvous with his youthful as- 
sociates to join the cortege, he hastened to meet his 
father-in-law." 

During these entertainments in the thronged abode 



150 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

of tho conqueror, his Conspirators were busy in the 
halls of government. According to the plot of Napo- 
leon and Sieyes, Regnier, deputy from La Meurthe, 
member of the Council of the Ancients, after harangues 
had been listened to upon the perils and sufferings 
of the country, rose and proposed that the sessions of 
that Body be removed to St. Cloud, and that such de- 
cree be executed by Bonaparte, conferring at the same 
tim3 on him the command of the troops ; " under the 
shadow of whose protecting arm," added the speaker, 
'• the Councils may proceed to discuss the changes 
which the public interest renders necessary." The 
motion passed, and a messenger was despatched to 
the residence of Napoleon. Amid acclamations he re- 
ceived the oath of fidelity from the officers about him, 
and escorted by them advanced to the bar of the Coun- 
cil of the Ancients. He was the object of universal 
enthusiasm at the Tuilleries, assuring the populace 
that " libert)?", victor}^, and peace would soon reinstate 
the Republic." He thus addressed Ballot, the Secre- 
tary of Barras : " What have ^j^ou done with that 
France I left you so splendid ? I left you peace, and 
I find you at war : 1 left you victory, and I find de- 
feats : I left you the spoils of Italy, and I find every 
where oppression and misery. What have you done 
with a hundred thousand Frenchmen, whom I knew, 
all of them my companions in glory ? They are dead. 
This state of things cannot last ; in three years it 
would lead us to destruction. According to some, we 
shall all be shortly enemies to the Republic ; we who 
have preserved it by our efforts and our courage. Yie 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 151 

have no occasion for better patriots than the brave men 
who shed their blood in its defence." The Directory, 
alarmed, issued orders to the Guards, conflicting with 
those of Napoleon, which were treated with contempt. 
Thereupon, Gohier and Moulins resigned, who with 
Sieyes and Ducos before them, brought that conclave 
to a final dissolution. But the danger was with the 
other two branches of representation. No sooner 
was the council of Five Hundred opened, than a fierce 
debate and tumult commenced, especially around the 
chair in which Lucien Bonaparte presided ; the Con- 
stitution of the year HI., was restored. The com- 
mander-in-chief, saw that a volcano was opening 
beneath his feet, and hurried to the Council of An- 
cients sitting in the gallery of Mars, to receive their 
co-operation before the uproar in the Orangery reached 
their chamber. He made a thrilling speech full of 
patriotic fire and denunciations of those who cried 
^' outlaw to the Dictator ! " The Grenadiers waved 
their caps, and a re-entrance of the Orangery, fol- 
lowed to the door by his officers, was the next act in 
the grand drama. There his friends were divided, and 
the vote was called for upon the decree of outlawry of 
himself. Then arose cries of " Death to the tyrant ! " 
" Down with the Dictator! " till the days of terrorism 
seemed to have returned, and the victim ready to be 
offered. Napoleon was disconcerted — it was a new 
field of contest and threatened death, and required a 
careful survey before he could act with dignity and 
effect. 

The Grenadiers rallied and bore him away. Lu- 



152 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

cien addressed the soldiers in impetuous style, fol- 
lowed by Napoleon, who ordered them to clear the Hall 
of the Five Hundred. They reached the entrance, 
and hesitated ; when General Leclerc came up with 
his band, and shouted, " Grenadiers forward ! " The 
drums beat, and the glittering bayonets swept the 
representatives from their seats ; in a few hours, the 
Legislative Assemblies were no more, and Bonaparte 
was first consul of France. On tlie overthrow of rep- 
resentation had arisen a monarchy essentially, though 
its features were not recognized by the restless mil- 
lions, whose imagination invested their master with 
the mysteriousness of an angelic nature, and the 
power of a god. Yet was the result a blessing, soon 
visible in the physical, civil, and moral improvement 
of the nation. Captives were released — civil war sup- 
pressed, and order upon a basis of stability unknown! 
during the entire succession of eight predecessors 
at the helm of power, seven years had witnessed, 
again pervaded society. This aspect of things was 
grateful to Josephine, and still she sometimes trem- 
bled with apprehension as to the termination of this 
strange and dizzy ascent to supremacy, mingling with 
words of congratulation the accents of fear, to check 
the wild pastime of unconquerable ambition before " it 
overleapt itself" About this time occurred the mar- 
riage of Murat, the bearer of despatches from the Cam- 
paign of Italy, which first introduced him to the notice 
of Josephine. She admired his military accomplish- 
ments, and his gallant deportment, but despised his 
want of generosity when it cost personal sacrifice, 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 153 

and of all principle, which made his excessive vanity 
the more offensive. She interested herself in this af- 
fair, because pleasing to the parties, and having a 
tendency to eiface entirely from the consul's mind 
even the recollection of absurd rumors concerning Mu- 
rat's familiarities with her. 

There is sublimity in the elevation of character 
which Josephine displayed toward those whose enmi- 
ty spent its arrows on her gentle heart — a character, 
that like a silver stream broken on the verge of a pre- 
cipice into a shower of crushed diamonds, was the 
most attractive in the light of its many virtues, when 
the wonted flow of existence was interrupted by a great 
calamity upon herself or those she cherished. For 
illustration, we introduce a letter to Bonaparte a few 
years later, when Murat's treachery was disclosed to 
the indignation of mankind, while it threw a porten- 
tous gloom over the prospects of him, from whose 
fraterAal hand the traitor had received a crown. 

"Sire, — I have this instant learned that your sus- 
picions are confirmed, and that the King of Naples, 
disregarding the most sacred ties of consanguinity 
and gratitude, has joined the ranks of your enemies. 
I have unfortunately nothing to say in his defence ; 
and can find in my heart no solace for the devouring 
anxiety which yours must feel : what stronger proof 
that my own is without consolation ! Still I cannot 
be silent ; there are those around you, who, too 
ready to aggravate the crime of the guilty, will but 
augment your sorrow, should their obsequious coun- 
sels lead to violent extremes. You know that I 



154 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

never have resisted your will, though I have some- 
times had the courage to oppose your views, and 
ventured observations to which you rendered justice 
by changing your plans, and adopting those sug- 
gested by a weak woman. Suffer me still to use 
this privilege. The King of Naples is without ex- 
cuse. But, sire, do not involve his wife in your 
vengeance, by depriving her of an affection to which 
she has ever attached a great value, and which it 
would be unjust to take from her, if, as I believe, that 
unhappy princess is in all things opposed to her hus- 
band's crime. Far from overwhelming her under the 
weight of a resentment which it is not probable she 
merits, address yourself to her heart, that she may 
employ all imaginable means to prevent the king 
from injuring you and dishonoring himself. 

" If things can no longer be remedied, and if you 
must be constrained henceforth to view as an enemy 
a brother who owes to you the crown which he is 
ready to disgrace — ah ! do not repulse the queen, 
when she will soon have none other save you upon 
whom she can rely ; for you have often repeated, and 
history proves by a thousand examples, that traitors 
never are successful in their treason. The king, 
whom the hostile powers now treat as an ally, will 
be sacrificed, should peace with you be his price — if, 
contrary to all appearances, they should prove con- 
querors, Murat would be equally the victim ; for they 
would no longer tolerate a King whom they had pre- 
viously treated as a usurper, but would hurl him from 
that throne which he now seeks to preserve by means 



life' of JOSEPHINE. 155 

the most blameable and most impolitic, and even by 
baseness itself. 

" Pity yom' sister, sire ; she has too much under- 
standing not to have appreciated the fearful futurity 
which hangs over her. If ever she should be unfor- 
tunate, receive her again to your affections ; and con- 
sole yourself for the ingratitude of her husband by the 
enjoyment of the heartfelt attachment with which 
your moderation will inspire her. Remember, too, 
that if from the first impulses even of a just indigna- 
tion you yield yourself up to the stern pleasure of ren- 
dering evil for evil, the consequences will eventually 
affect your innocent nephews, and so, sooner or later, 
you must lament a severity which will have cost you, 
many tears. Sire, I plead in your own interest ; re- 
flect well before finally determining. Consult not 
those men whose facile temper merely follows all the 
variations of your own, but those devoted servants who 
are around your brave and royal brothers-in-arms — • 
who never trafficked with their consciences, and who 
would have preferred even your displeasure to an ad- 
vice that could compromise honor. Hear madam 
your mother. Finally, do not punish by your hate 
until it has heen proved that you cannot pardon. 

" Excuse, sire, what I have written. The hope of 
one day beholding you repant a too prompt condemna- 
tion has led me, perhaps, to displease you. The con- 
sciousness of discharging a duty has inspired me with 
courage on this so painful occasion. You v/iil par- 
don a zeal, not officious, but sincere, which has in- 
duced me thus far to presume to give advice ; and 



156 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

you will say that Josephine has never ceased to he 
candid with him wlio of all men is the sincerest lover 
of that truth which yet he so rarely hears. 

^- To-morrow I expect Eugene ; be pleased, sire, to 
tell him if you forgive me this letter, written with the 
desire ever dearest to my heart — of seeing you happy. 
Yengeance inflicted where a sister is concerned, will 
not conduce to happiness when the bosom, like yours, 
is disposed to the soft emotions of fraternal love. Be- 
lieve me ever, and preserve for me the friendship so 
precious to Josephine." 

While at the Luxembourg, Bonaparte was absorbed 
with plans for consolidating the new government, and 
raising money to meet its expenditures. Here Jose- 
phine saw him daily, and probably enjoyed more do- 
mestic felicity than at any other period of her life, 
with Napoleon. But finding this republican resi- 
dence too small for his court and ambition, he obtained 
a removal of the Consular domicil to the Tuilleries, 
although the very centre of kingly associations, and 
of that hated pomp Vvdiich the people had trodden in 
the dust with the blood of their monarch. Every 
thing opposed to the leveling democracy was proposed 
and carried forward under disguise. The ancient 
halls of royalty were named the Government Palace, 
and given into the hands of rulers, Vvdiose chief wore 
in place of a crown a conqueror's cockade, and for a 
sceptre a sword which he grasped w^ith more devotion 
than ever did a despot the symbol of power. 

The occasion of this transfer was one of great 
splendor — resembling an English coronation in the 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 157 

ceremony and jubilant festivity of the scene. The 
Consul's tried and brave companions-in-arms weie 
many of them in the train which delighted to do him 
honor. The troops dashed proudly along the streets, 
the banners were flung out on the breath of departing 
winter — and the swell of martial music led on the 
excited cavalcade to the silent apartments made des- 
olate by the Reign of Terror. Upon their walls was 
engraved in golden letters, the word Republic — com- 
pleting the deception which calmed the fears of the 
masses unconsciously rendering homage to Jupiter, 
while as they supposed bowing to the goddess of 
hberty. 

The evening of this memorable day brought the 
arena of Josephine's glory. The spacious drawing- 
rooms occupied by her were crowded by eight o'clock, 
with the beauty and chivalry of France. Foreign 
ambassadors in decorations that were indices of the 
Courts that they represented, veteran officers, and the 
lemnant of an ancient nobility, all assembled to con- 
gratulate the hero of Egypt and Italy, upon his ac- 
cession to the guardianship of their beloved France. 
Beautiful women in rich apparel and with jeweled 
brows, shed the light of their admiring 03^68 upon 
the flashing star, coronet and plume, that were the 
attractive insignia of greatness in that gay assembh^ 
The horrors of civil w^ar which for ten years had 
agitated and ravaged the realm were forgotten — the 
dead slumbered in the covered caves of their hurried 
burial — the guillotine had ceased to haunt the ear 
with the ominous echo of its frequent stroltCj and the 
8 



158 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

nation's heart beat once more freely beneath the prc- 
tecting segis of that single arm, which had hewn down 
the riotous mob, annihilated armies, then overthrowing 
a miserable government, in the name of a citizen had 
taken the reigns of supreme dictation over a submis- 
sive and delighted people. 

The illusion was successful that met their observa- 
tion in all this outward parade. The fine talents of 
untitled heroes, and the splendor that outshone the 
gaudy machine of Bourbon oppression, pleased ex- 
ceedingly the multitude, who seemed to be in the as- 
cendant — while the royalists read with hope in this 
returning grandeur, the indications of a full restoration 
of monarchy. 

Guests from every class of citizens, therefore, par- 
ticipated in this magnificent entertainment, with unu- 
sual joy. Josephine attended by Talleyrand, the min- 
ister of foreign affairs, entered the saloon greeted with 
the murmur of universal admiration. Her dress was 
simple, and her manner, then as always indeed, per- 
fectly graceful. The white muslin of her apparel 
like a vestal robe, was both entirely becoming and an 
emblem of her unstained innocence of action. Tlie 
tresses of her hair fell negligently upon her neck, 
around which a simple ornament of pearls threw their 
Instre, and her features beaming with benignity made 
her a charming contrast with the unfortunate wife of 
Louis, her admired predecessor. She received the 
presentation of ambassadors vv^ith quiet dignity, and 
passed through the thronged apartments, smiling on 
the company with die sympathy and affection of an 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 159 

ingenuous spirit beneath the unaffected majesty of a 
queen. She was now thirty-six, but retained to a re- 
markable degree the freshness and buoyancy of her 
youth. Her tasteful and unostentatious attire, and 
the sparkling sweetness of her conversation con- 
tributed much to the manifold attractions she possessed . 
'' Josephine was rather above than below the middle 
size, her's being exactly that perfection of stature 
which is neither too tall for the delicacy of feminine 
proportion, nor so diminutive as to detract from dig- 
nity. Her person, in its individual forms, exhibited 
faultless symmetry ; and the whole frame, animated 
by lightness and elasticity of movement, seemed like 
something aerial in its perfectly graceful carriage. 
This harmonious ease of action contributed yet more 
to the dignified, though still youthful air so re- 
markable in Josephine's appearance. Her features 
were small and finely modeled, the curves tending 
rather to fulness, and the profile inclining to Grecian, 
but without any statue like coldness of outline. The 
habitual character of her countenance was a placid 
sweetness, within whose influence there were few 
who would not have felt interested in a being so 
gentle. Perhaps the first impression might have left a 
feeling that there wanted energy ; but this could have 
been for an instant only, for the real charm of this 
mild countenance resided in its power of varied ex- 
pression, changing with each vicissitude of thought 
and sentiment. ' Never,' says a very honest admirer, 
'did any woman better justify the saying, 'The 
eyes are the mirror of the soul.' .Josephine's were of 



160 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE, 

a deep blue, clear and brilliant, even imposing in their 
expression, when turned fully upon any one ; but in 
her usual manner they lay half concealed beneath 
their long and silky eyelashes. She had a habit of 
looking thus with a mild subdued glance upon those 
whom she loved, throwing into her regard such win- 
ning tenderness as might not easily be resisted, and, 
even in his darkest moods, Napoleon confessed its 
tranquilizing power. Realizing exactly the fine des- 
cription of the old poet, Josephine's 

" Long hair was glossy chestnut brown," 

whose sunny richness harmonized delightfully with 
a clear and transparent complexion, and neck of 
almost dazzling whiteness. Her eyebrows were a 
shade darker, arching regularly, and penciled with 
extreme delicacy. The perfect modulation of her 
voice has already been mentioned ; it constituted one 
of her most pleasing attractions, and rendered her 
conversation, though not sparkling with wit nor re- 
markable for strength, but flowing on in easy elegance 
and perfect good-nature, the most captivating that 
can easily be conceived. On the whole, Josephine, 
perhaps, might not exactly have pretentions to be 
what is termed a fine woman, but her's was that style 
of beauty which awakens in the heart a far deeper 
sentiment than mere admiration." 

Napoleon on the occasion described, appeared in 
plain uniform, decorated only with the tri-colored 
sash, a simple and beautiful badge worn with no less 
policy than taste. A glow of satisfaction played upon 



LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 161 

his pale features — his noble forehead hung like a 
battlement over the restless orbs whose fire flashed 
with the rapidity of lightning, revealing the chang- 
ing hue of thought, but not its secret, mighty work- 
ings — and upon his countenance, meditation as a 
mysterious presence was always visible. His figure 
was rather diminutive, and he stooped in walking 
carelessly with friends. His hands were symmetrical, 
of which it is said he was particularly vain. Among 
the eccentricities of his deportment, which were 
merely the peculiarities of genius engaged in pro- 
found contemplation, he had a convulsive shrug of 
his right shoulder, moving at the same instant his 
mouth in that direction. 

Bonaparte turned away with weariness at times 
from the cares and pleasures of the Tuilleries, and 
sought with Josephine the tranquil scenes of Mal- 
maison. 

The tenth day of the decade, and after the restora- 
tion of the hebdomadal calender, every Saturday and 
Sabbath were passed at their charming villa. Hor- 
tense had from the first acquaintance a great antip- 
athy toward Napoleon — a vague fear of him haunted 
her continually, which was only conquered during 
this familiar intercourse subsequent to the consulship, 
and rather from respect to her mother than because 
she admired the wonderful man. Such was his pref- 
erence for this retirement, that he often returned to 
the palace with evident emotion — uttering an expres- 
sion of recoil from the duties of his official station. 
Bonaparte was capable of absorbing attachment, and 



162 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE, 

social enjoyment, but his ambition permitted no ob^ 
stacle to lie in his way — a battalion of brave soldiers, 
or a single loving heart, offered no barrier to success ; 
he would sooner drain a goblet of tears he made to 
flow, than swerve from a purpose involving his glory. 
This conflict of powers on the war-plain of the human 
soul, is discernible in every phase of his history. 
And it naturally awakened apprehension of secret 
enemies, and the assassin's stroke, which invaded 
even the peace of his private abode. He ordered the 
remodeling and embellishment of Malmaison, which 
introduced suspicious workmen upon the grounds, 
shaking his consciousness of security, and investing 
his cherished seclusion with gloomy presentiments ; 
those prophetic shadows of the future that always 
had force upon the mind of Napoleon. 

Josephine observed the appearance of those builders 
whose dress and expression indicated treachery, and 
ordered the utmost vigilance in regard to their move- 
ments. When the preparations were finished, and 
the Consul again entered his apartments, he found 
a snuff-box on his writing-table, placed there evidently 
to attract attention. Its similarity to those he used, 
deceived him for a moment, and he thought perhaps 
his valet had put the box there, where it was frequently 
laid. But a suspicion flashed upon him, and the 
contents were examined, disclosing a subtle and ac- 
tive poison, designed to destroy the illustrious slave 
to habit. The porter of the mansion added a guard 
of Newfoundland dogs, and caution marked all the 
arrangements of the republican residence, giving it 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 163 

the air of a feudal castle whose lord was in jeopardy 
every hour from invisible foes. So it happens fre- 
quently that the scarred veteran of numberless battles, 
will tremble v/ith alarm when danger comes in calmer 
moments — and quail before the stealthy, certain ap- 
proach of death. Courage which appeared sublime 
while rose the stirring notes of 

" Death's music, and the roar of combat," 

leaves the hero in tears in the hour of despondency 
and gloom, which contemplation upon life's mystery 
and the realm lying beyond awaken, or fears of a 
future retribution fling upon the spirit. 

The spring of 1800 wore away — ^Napoleon saw 
every thing complete in the convenience and beauty 
of Malmaison. The heavy debts Josephine accumu- 
lated in purchasing the estate and furniture while he 
was in Egypt, were urged by the creditors, and it 
became necessary to broach the subject to the Consul. 
He was at first indignant, but immediately ordered 
payment, and soon exliibited his usual composure. 
Josephine dissembled in regard to the amount, fearing 
his displeasure, reporting 600,000 francs instead of 
1200,000 the sum due, but which by the interposition 
of Talleyrand was reduced to that moiety. Bona- 
parte's leisure was filled up with family parties, the 
entertainment of particular friends, and evening walks 
with Bourrienne. Then came the correspondence 
with England — unsuccessful negotiations for peace, 
and preparations for re-crossing the Alps with his 
splendid army. 



164 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 

On the 4th of May he left Malmaison, and embra- 
cing Josephine upon his departure, bade her adieu, 
with these words ; "Courage my good Josephine! I 
shall not forget thee, nor will my absence be long." 
Two days after he was reviewing the vanguard of the 
Army of Reserve at Lausanne, consisting of six tried 
regiments of his best troops under Lannes. Immedi- 
ately orders were given for the whole force, led by 
Victor, Murat, Monnier and other brave commanders, 
amounting to 36,000 men, to move forward to St. 
Pierre, a hamlet at the foot of St. Bernard. From 
this village to St. Remi, over that gigantic crest of the 
Alps, Great St. Bernard, the route is environed with 
difficulties apparently insurmountable, and which 
frown upon the daring adventurer with hopeless ter- 
ror. A survey of the fearful ascent resulted in the 
decision of a bare possibility of success ; upon which 
Napoleon said confidently, " Let us forward then ! " 
The mighty cavalcade went steadily up the rugged 
heights — over precipices v/ell-nigh perpendicular, 
dragging the heavy artillery upon the trunks of trees 
after them, while martial music was poured in thril- 
ling echoes on the ear of the mountain solitude, and 
the occasional interlude of a charge was beaten, to 
revive the courage of the struggling host. The eagle 
left his eyry to look on a scene that his flashing eye 
had never witnessed before, and sent down to the dark 
defiles the cry of alarm ; while the wild goat paused 
in his flight to Avatch the tortuous advance of the vast 
Hydra which hung upon the snow clad declivity, 
from its base to its cloud-covered brow. The Consul 



LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 165 

descended the glittering glaciers in a sledge— on the 
2d of June entered Milan amid the shouts of the popu- 
lace who supposed he was sleeping beneath the waters 
of the Red Sea — and on the 14th of June he was wait- 
ing for the enemy on the plain of Marengo. It would be 
a digression to describe the memorable battle in which 
the legions of Austria were scattered ; 6000 grenadiers 
who gloried in their invincible onsets, routed with 
terrific slaughter, and which decided the fate of Italy 
by restoring what France had lost during Napoleon's 
adventures abroad. Conditions of peace were con- 
cluded, and the Consul hastened towards Paris. At 
Lyons, and Dijou, a storm of enthusiasm followed 
him — young women in groups flung flowers in his 
path — and on the 2d of July, he re-entered Paris amid 
the deafening applause of the people. 

Josephine had passed the interval at Malmaison, 
quietly multiplying its external attractions, arranging 
a sort of private menagerie of animals sent her by 
Bonaparte or through his conquests, and as tokens of 
gratitude for her own philanthropy, from friends she 
had never seen, in distant countries. She indulged 
also in the fine and healthful pastime of riding on 
horseback, in company with Hortense. 

Upon one of these excursions, Hortense's steed took 
fright, and wheeling suddenly around, ran at full 
speed. She attempted to alight that she might relieve 
her mother from alarm, but was entangled in the folds 
of her riding habit and drawn some distance upon the 
ground. The fair and excellent equestrian was spee- 
dily rescued from danger, and suflered only slight 
8* 



166 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

bruises which may have been lamented as blem- 
ishes upon her beauty, in spite of the mirth that rang 
out in her laughter upon regaining the saddle. But 
the most delightful entertainment to Josephine, was 
the perusal of the conqueror's letters from the Alpine 
defiles and the plains beyond. These bore not alone 
tidings of victory, but what is more precious to a 
woman's heart, the assurance that nothing effaced her 
image from his memory, or quenched the incense- 
flame of love burning with increasing intensity upon 
her hidden altar of devotion to him. 

For nearly four months following the armistice 
which was concluded on the 15th of June, Napoleon 
had little to engage his attention that prevented fre- 
quent visits to Malmaison. By this time the nation 
had recovered from its paroxysms of republicanism, so 
called, and settled back to order and decency of man- 
ners, while refinement began to blend with the amen- 
ities of social and domestic life. No one was more 
capable or willing to improve the desirable medium 
between the extravagance of a dissolute aristocracy, 
and the coarse equality of the leveling democracy 
that rose on the overthrow of the former, than Jose- 
phine. She received courteously and unostenta- 
tiously the many visitors that frequented her mansion, 
embracing the most distinguished and cultivated per- 
sons of the realm. Bonaparte appeared happy in the 
bosom of his family, surrounded by a band of ardent 
friends, and worshiped by the multitude, ready to 
shout at the sound of his salutation, as did the admi- 
rers of Herod, " it is the voice of a god ! " 



LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 167 

He mingled familiarly in amusements invented to 
lend an agreeable variety to the pleasures of the villa, 
and delight the young people of his adoption. Some- 
times a mimic theatre exhibited a comedy or tragedy 
■ — then a game of " prisoners " covered the lawn with 
a scene of excitement, pleasant to the actors as it was 
diverting to spectators. Josephine felt besides the 
interest common to all, a mother's pride and joy in 
the decorous sports of a son and blooming daughter, 
dearer to her than existence. She anticipated every 
want, and gave eclat to each brilliant achievement in 
the innocent pastimes that filled with sounds of mirth 
the groves of her peaceful domain, and made tlie 
moonlit landscape a fairy land. It was all she de- 
sired to have — the sceptre of the universe could add 
nothing to this fruition of her earthly hopes. The 
following is a description of one of these domestic 
games. 

" Bonaparte and Josephine, Eugene, Hortense, Car- 
oline Bonaparte, Rapp, Lauriston, Duroc, Isabey, with 
Boiurienne, and a few other confidential retainers, 
divided into two camps, as they were termed; and, 
when nothing pressed, the sport often continued for 
hours. The best runners were Eugene and his sister ; 
but Bonaparte in the selection of partisans always 
chose Josephine, never suffering her to be in any 
camp but his own. When by chance she happened 
to be taken prisoner, he always seemed uneasy till she 
was released, making all exertions for that purpose, 
though a bad runner himself, often coming down in 
mid career with a heavy fall on the grass. Up again, 



168 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE, 

however, he started, but usually so convulsed with 
laughter that he could not possibly move, and the af- 
fair generally ended in his captivity. When placed 
in durance, or when Josephine had been taken, he 
kept constantly calling out to his party, ' A rescue ! 
a rescue ! ' clapping his hands, shouting to encourage 
the runners, and, in short, exhibiting ail the ardor of 
a boy at play. When we find the conqueror at Ma- 
rengo, the restorer of France, thus yielding to the 
kindly promptings of harmless mirth in the bosom of 
his family, we almost forget his real character." 

But as Napoleon had the stern duties of state to 
occupy the hours chiefly, and enlist his unshmibering 
energies, so Josephine never forgot her higher obliga- 
tions to the suffering who needed her interposition, or 
the poor who asked for alms. Especially did she 
give the whole weight of her influence to the aid of 
those exiles from their country and families, who were 
driven by the waves of revolution to foreign shores. 
Whenever there was hope of restoration, her efforts 
were unwearied to attain the object — the only reward 
desired, was the rapture of the meeting, when the 
father crossed the threshhold of the sanctuary from 
which he had been rudely torn. But sometimics she 
was denied even this — the ancestral halls of the re- 
turning captives in many instances were in the pos- 
session of strangers, and her benevolence was farther 
engaged in securing a home for the friendless. 

Josephine's active sympathy for the afliicted, and 
her deep acquaintance with the human heart, are dis- 
played affectingly in an incident connected with the 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 169 

Decrest family, who were restored to their country by 
her mediation. A nephew of the marquis, who was 
a young officer of some distinction, was killed at the 
national festival celebrated soon after the formation 
of the consulate, by the accidental explosion of a 
rocket. He was an only son, and his father gave 
himself up to hopeless grief. Upon the following day, 
Madam Montesson the friend of Josephine, and a rela- 
tive of Decrest, invited the bereaved family to her 
house. But nothing could relieve the rayless gloom 
of a father's mourning ; he was unmoved by the ac- 
cents of condolence, or entreaties of loved ones, who 
feared that a fixed insanity or sudden death would be 
the result of his wild sorrow. 

Josephine entered the apartment, and gazed a mo- 
ment on the scene of anguish, and silently prepared 
to break the spell of despair that darkened every mo- 
ment upon the spirit of the chief mourner. Taking 
his eldest daughter by the hand, she led the weeping 
child to his knee, then raised the youngest, a smiling 
infant, in her arms, while she knelt in the eloquence 
of a grieving angel before him. He started, looked 
half unconsciously on the group, then his eye bright- 
ened in the midst of rising tears, his lips quivered, and 
in another instant he wept in their embrace. The 
fountain of parental affection was misealed again, 
and invoking a blessing on his deliverer, he rose to 
life from the very shadow of death. 

Toward the close of the year 1800, conspiracies 
thickened around the First Consul. Among the most 
threatening, were that of Ceracchi, on the part of 



170 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

the revolutionary mob, and the 3d Nivose, by the roy- 
aUsts. The former was matured by one Harrel, 
Arena, Topino-Lsbrun, and Demerville, and the 
time of action was appointed upon an evening when 
the Consul designed to visit the opera. Harrel be- 
trayed his accomplices, but the disclosure was not 
known to them till their arrangements were completed, 
and Napoleon was seated with Duroc at the opera ; 
when they were arrested in the lobby and hurried to 
prison. This treacherous conspirator was rewarded 
with the appointment of commandant of Yincennes, 
which post he held when Duke d' Enghien fell by the 
assassins, thrust in that prison. This plot occurred 
the first of October. About three months afterward 
that of the 3d Nivose, a more deeply laid and fearful 
conspiracy was formed — whose actors invented and 
built that engine of death, memorable as the infer- 
nal machine. The 3d Nivose was the 21st Decem- 
ber, on the evening of v/hich the performance of 
Hay den's splendid Oratorio of the Creation was to 
take place. Bonaparte had mentioned his intention 
of attending the Concert with his family. He rode 
in company with Lannes, Berthier and Lauriston, 
while General Rapp in another carriage, escorted Jo- 
sephine and her children. Upon reaching the middle 
of the street St. Nicaise, a narrow way leading from 
the Tuilleries, a terrible explosion blew twenty per- 
sons in the air, wounded sixty more, and threw two 
or three dwellings from their foundation, burying the 
dead beneath their fragments. 

The following is General Rapp's own account of 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 171 

the entire scene and the destructive agency employed 
by the Jacobins^ as the Consul believed : — 

" The affair of the infernal machine has never been 
properly understood by the public. The police had 
intimated to Napoleon, that an attempt would be 
made against his life, and cautioned him not to go 
out. Madam Bonaparte, Mademoiselle Beauharnais, 
Madam Murat, Lannes, Bessieres, the aide-de-camp 
on duty, and Lieutenant Lebrun, now Duke of Pla- 
cenza, were all assembled in the saloon, while the 
First Consul was writing in his closet. 

" Haydn's Oratorio was to be performed that eve- 
ning : the ladies were anxious to hear the music, and 
we also expressed a wish to that effect. The escort 
picquet was ordered out ; and Lannes requested Na- 
poleon would join the party. He consented ; his car- 
riage was ready, and he took along with him Bessieres 
and the aide-de-camp on duty. I was directed to at- 
tend the ladies. Josephine had received a magnificent 
shawl from Constantinople, and she that evening 
wore it for the first time. ' Allow me to observe 
Madam,' said I, ' that your shawl is not thrown on 
with your usual elegance.' She good humoredly 
begged that I would fold it after the fashion of the 
Egyptian ladies. While I was engaged in this 
operation, we heard Napoleon depart. ' Come sister,' 
said Madam Murat, who was impatient to get to the 
theatre, ' Bonaparte is going.' We stepped into the 
carriage : the first consul's equipage had already 
reached the middle of the Place Carrousel. We drove 
after it ; but we had scarcely entered the Place when 



172 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

the machine exploded. Napoleon escaped by a sin- 
gular chance. Saint-Regent, or his French servant, 
had stationed himself in the middle of the Rue Nicaise. 
A grenadier of the escort, supposing he was really 
what he appeared to be, a water-carrier, gave him a 
few blows with the flat of his sabre, and drove him 
oif. The cart was turned around, and the machine 
exploded between the carriages of Napoleon and Jo- 
sephine. The ladies shrieked on hearing the report ; 
the carriage windows were broken, and Mademoiselle 
Beauharnais received a slight hurt on her hand. I 
alighted, and crossed the Rue Nicaise, which was 
strewed with the bodies of those who had been thrown 
down, and the fragments of the walls that had been 
shattered by the explosion. Neither the Consul nor 
any individual of his suite sustained any serious inju- 
ry. When I entered the theatre Napoleon was seated 
in his box, calm and composed, and looking at the 
audience through his opera-glass. Fouche was beside 
him. ' Josephine,' said he as soon as he observed me. 
She entered at that moment, and he did not finish his 
question. ' The rascals,' said he, very coolly, ' wanted 
to blow me up. Bring me a book of the Oratorio.' '^ 
Again Josephine's destiny turned on apparently 
an unimportant event. The delay occasioned by her 
pleasantry about a beautiful shawl doubtless saved 
her from the unseen ruin, in which so many perished. 
Another letter from her to Fouche, minister of police, 
after the execution of the leaders in the diabolical de- 
sign, and sentence of one hundred and thirty more 
of the suspected to transportation for life, again ex- 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 173 

hibits her greatness of soul and gushing tenderness 
for the suffering, whether made by their own guilt or 
that of another. 

" Citizen Minister, — While I yet tremble at the 
frightful event which has just occurred, I am dis- 
quieted and distressed, through fear of the punish- 
ment necessarily to be inflicted on the guilty, who be- 
long, it is said, to families with whom I once lived in 
habits of intercourse. I shall be solicited by mothers, 
sisters, and disconsolate wives ; and my heart will 
be broken, through my inability to obtain all the mercy 
for which I could plead. 

" I know that the clemency of the First Consul is 
great, his attachment to me extreme ; but the crime 
is too dreadful that terrible examples should not be 
necessary. The chief of the government has not been 
alone exposed ; and it is that which will render him 
severe — inflexible. I conjure you, therefore, citizen 
minister, to do all that lies in your power to prevent 
inquiries being pushed too far. Do not detect all 
those persons who may have been accomplices in 
these odious transactions. Let not France, so long 
overwhelmed in consternation by public executions, 
groan anew beneath such inflictions. It is ever better 
to endeavor to soothe the public mind, than to ex- 
asperate men by fresh terrors. In short, when the 
ringleaders in this abominable attempt shall have 
been secured, let severity give place to pity for inferior 
agents, seduced, as they may have been, by danger- 
ous falsehoods, or exaggerated opinions. 



174 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

'' When just invested with supreme power, the First 
Consul, as seems to me, ought rather to gain hearts 
than be exhibited as ruhng slaves. Soften by your 
counsels whatever may be too violent in his just resent- 
ment. Punish — alas ! that you must certainly do — ■ 
but pardon still more. Be also the support of those 
unfortunate men, who, by frank avowal, or repen- 
tance, shall expiate a portion of their crime. 

" Having myself narrowly escaped perishing in the 
Revolution, you must regard as quite natural my in- 
terference in behalf of those who can be saved with- 
out involving in new danger the life of my husband, 
precious to me and to France. On this account, do, I 
entreat you, make a wide distinction between the au- 
thors of the crime, and those v/ho, through weakness 
or fear, have consented to take a part therein. As a 
woman, a wife, and a mother, I must feel the heart- 
rendings of those that will apply to me. Act, citizen 
minister, in such a manner, that the number of these 
may be lessened. This will spare me much grief. 
Never will I turn away from the suplications of mis- 
fortune ; but, in the present instance, you can do in- 
finitely more than I, and will, on this account, excuse 
my importunity. Rely on my gratitude and esteem." 

Soon after this bold attempt to destroy the Consul, 
Hortense was married to his brother Louis. It was 
one of the many instances of an unfortunate union, in 
the consummation of which interested friends were the 
responsible agents. Hortense loved Duroc, an ambi- 
tious marshal of thirty — the first choice of liouis is 
not known. The ceremony was solemnized Janu- 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 175 

ary 2d, 1802, when she was eighteen and Louis Bona- 
parte twenty-four. He was good looking, and amia- 
ble in his youth ; but disease fastened upon his frame, 
and in both of these respects wrought sad changes. 
He resembled, it was thought, the Glueen of Naples, 
his sister, in the expression of his face, when her 
countenance was in repose. Caring less for power 
and more for ease than Napoleon, he scarcely thanked 
him for the throne of Holland, whose damp and unge- 
nial atmosphere, made havoc with a system accus- 
tomed to the bland air, and lovely sky of Italy. When 
setting out for that country, he said to the Consul, in 
regard to certain commands — " I will do what I like. 
Let me act freely or let me remain here. I will not 
go to govern a country where I shall be known only 
by disaster." 

Hortense was an interesting woman — gifted with a 
clear intellect which had received constant culture — 
graceful and accomplished, she was admired and be- 
loved. '' She was not exactly beautiful ; for the con- 
formation of her mouth and her teeth which rather 
projected, took away from the regularity of a counte- 
nance otherwise very pleasing in all its sweetness and 
benignity of expression. Her eyes, like her mother's 
were blue, her complexion clear, and her hair of a 
charming blond. In stature she did not exceed the 
middle size ; but her person was beautifully formed." 
It is not singular that Josephine urged this marriage, 
and omitted nothing that might secure the object. 
She disliked the coldness of Duroc, and the absence 
of all distinction excepting as conferred by Napoleon ; 



176 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

and what was of vastly more importance, she knew 
the Consul loved Louis, and the alliance would create 
strength in the very bosom of secret foes. She was 
hated by the Bonaparte family generally, and in this 
event she anticipated a new source of hope and power 
against her detractors. But all these considerations 
are scarcely sufficient to give plausibility to so serious 
a violation of the very law and impulses of our nature. 
Neither, when married, cherished affection for each 
other — their mutual kindness was rather the civility 
of respect, than the expression of attachment. Upon 
the bridal occasion, seven hundred invitations were 
issued, and the saloons of the Tuilleries were thronged 
with guests from the most brilliant ranks of society. 
Ambassadors were looking on, or smiling gallantly on 
the queenly forms with which they were encircled, 
and all were intoxicated with pleasure but the bride. 
Arrayed gorgeously, sparkling with diamonds and 
crowned with flowers, she strove vainly to hide the 
heavy sadness upon her heart. To every observant 
eye, that central star was under a fearful eclipse — the 
world of thought was dark and desolate. She shone 
on others with a mockery of light, that made the gloom 
within the deeper. Fair victim ! like an Eastern 
sacrifice to the grim idol, she stood before the altar an 
offering to the god of ambition. A purer motive is 
sought for than either which has been supposed, in the 
desire of Josephine to repel the slander that had ob- 
tained to some extent concerning Bonaparte's dishon- 
orable love for Hortense. This malignant calumny 
might have affected that noble mother, and entered 



I 

LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 177 

into her estimate of results. But doubtless Jose- 
phine who certainly admired Louis more than Duroc 
in almost every point of character, believed that the 
mutual dislike which arose chiefly from previous 
attachments would disappear in the intimacies of do- 
mestic life. In the following letter she refers to the 
detraction, and the want of devotion to each other 
visible in the wedded pair. 

Josephine to Hortense. 
" You have ill understood me, my child ; there is 
nothing equivocal in my words, as there cannot exist 
an uncandid sentiment in my heart. How could you 
conceive that I participate in some ridiculous, or, 
perhaps, malicious opinions ? No ! you do not think 
that I believe you to be my rival. We, indeed, both 
reign in the same bosom, though by very different, 
yet equally sacred rights ; and they who in the 
affection which my husband manifests for you, have 
pretended to discover other sentiments than those 
of a parent and a friend, know not his soul. He is 
a mind too elevated above the vulgar ever to be ac- 
cessible to the passions. That of glory, if you will, 
engrosses him too entirely for our repose ; but, at 
least glory inspires nothing vile. Such, as touching 
him, is my profession of faith. I make the confes- 
sion to you in all sincerity, in order to allay your 
inquietudes. When I recommended to you to love, 
or at least, not to repulse Louis, I spoke to you in 
my character of an experienced wife, an attentive 
mother, and tender friend, and in this threefold rela- 
tion do I now embrace you," 



# 



178 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

A mother's expostulations were unavailing — the 
cup of sorrow taken at the hymenial altar was pressed 
to her lips partly by her own hand, and death only 
removed the poisoned chalice. There is touching 
melancholy in such a fate ; a bright, loving maiden, 
whose girlhood was an ordeal of trial seldom endured 
by any human sufferer, just as life began to put on its 
radiant smile, and beckon her towards the luminous fu- 
ture ; her sky was overcast — and she trod a pathway 
strewn with withered hopes and wet with her tears. 

Allusion has been made to Josephine's expectation 
of a speedy oblivion of whatever threatened the do- 
mestic happiness of her daughter — this appears more 
fully in a note to her daughter after the birth of a son. 
" What I learned eight days ago gave me the 
greatest pain ; what I observe to-day confirms and 
augments my sorrow. Why show to Louis this re- 
pugnance'/ Instead of rendering him more ungra- 
cious still by caprice, by inequality of character, why 
do you not rather make efforts to surmount your indif- 
ference ? But, you will say, he is not amiable ! All 
that is relative. If not in your eyes, he may appear 
so to others ; and all women do not view him through 
the medium of dislike. As for myself, who am here 
altogether disinterested, I imagine I behold him as 
he is — more loving, doubtless, than lovable ; but this 
is a great and rare quality : generous, beneficent, 
feeling, and above all, an excellent father — if you so 
willed, he would prove a good husband ! His mel- 
ancholy, his love of study and retirement, injure him 
in your estimation. For these, I ask you, is he to 



¥ 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE.^ ^^1^'"^ ^^^ 

blame ? Is he obliged to conform his nature to- cir- 
cumstances ? Who could have predicted to him his 
fortune ? But, according to you, he has not even the 
courage to bear that fortune ? This I believe to be 
an error ; but he certainly wants the strength. With 
his ascetic inclinations, his invincible desire of re- 
tirement and study, he finds himself misplaced in the 
elevated rank to which he has attained. You desire 
that he should imitate his brother ; give him first of 
all, the same temperament. You have not failed to 
remark, that almost our entire existence depends 
upon our health, and that upon our digestion. Let 
poor Louis digest better, and you would find him 
more amiable. But such as he is, that can be no 
reason for abandoning him, or making him feel the 
unbecoming sentiment with which he inspires you. 
Do you, whom I have seen so kind, continue to be so 
at the moment when it is precisely more than ever 
necessary. Take pity on a man who has to lament 
that he possesses what would constitute another's 
happiness, and before condemning him think of others, 
who, like him, have groaned beneath the burden of 
their greatness, and bathed with their tears that 
diadem which they believed had never been destined 
for their brow." 

Duroc married a Spanish heiress, unattractive both 
in person and temper. He was evidently controlled 
in his choice by the fortune it secured, and lived as 
wretchedly as he deserved — "a gilded slave" — a 
selfish, disappointed and miserable man, when away 
from the " glory and the guilt of war?' 



180 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 

So does greatness fail to confer happiness. In the 
instances here given, how utterly incompetent was 
earth to bestow the boon for which the soul is ever, 
struggling — contejitment — how often a troubled brain 
throbs beneath a coronet, and a heart breaks silently 
beneath a jeweled robe ! 

Napoleon now improved the interval of peace, in 
tranquilizing and establishing firmly the Cis-alpine Re- 
public. Whether in securing the selection of himself 
for President of the Italian commonwealth he was 
governed altogether by his aspirations for power, or 
under the impression that he alone could consolidate 
and guard what he had formed, is a theme of opposite 
opinions. Doubtless there was a blending of motives 
in the design. Bonaparte had no confidence in the 
masses, and unbounded self-reliance; besides, his 
ambition was never chastened by a sense of religious 
obligation, but inflamed by universal applause at- 
tending success which seemed miraculous. How 
could it be otherwise than that he should be possessed 
with the idea, he is said to have expressed to Jose- 
phine in the palace of the Tuilleries ? " Behold a place 
without nobles ; in time I intend to render it worthy 
of his palace, who is yet to become the master and 
arbiter of the world." The meeting of deputies was 
held at Lyons in January, 1802 ; and on the 26th of 
that month he received the title of "President of the 
Cis-alpine Republic." 

Here he met the wreck of his valiant army of the 
East. The surviving ofiicers of those regiments 
thinned more by fatal disease than the enemy's bullets, 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 181 

gathered once more around their leader. Greetings 
were exchanged, and tears fell from cheeks furrowed 
with age and toil, while the pavement beneath, seemed 
to tremble to the shock of their deadly onset upon 
the gallant Mamelukes ; and the mighty pyramids 
like gigantic sentinels, rose upon their vision, as when 
Napoleon exclaimed, just before the resistless charge, 
" Soldiers, from the summit of yonder pyramids forty 
ages behold you ! " 

Bonaparte returned to Paris, his soaring genius in- 
dulging a transient repose upon the height in his path- 
way of greatness, he had just gained by a single 
stride, and gazed with prophetic eye along the upward 
track to an eminence whose solitary grandeur would 
bewilder the hero of common mould. 

This additional honor was followed by a renewal of 
those magnificent entertainments which succeeded his 
Consular coronation. Josephine was in the full en- 
joyment of domestic peace — interrupted only by the 
parade of court, and solicitude for the safety of Napo- 
leon and the happiness of her children. Malmaison 
became her residence for weeks together, where her 
pleasures were multiplied, and made more intense by 
the absence of ceremony and the crowd of parasites 
that haunt the halls of royalty. There were often 
amusing applications for aid by those who had been 
in some way associated with the " little Corsican," in 
former days. Among these was his writing master 
while at Brienne. Josephine was in the cabinet when 
the poor professor, in thread-bare apparel entered. 

After an awkward pause, with an effort that called 
9 



182 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

forth all his courage, he announced himself to the 
Consul. With a frown and an excited air, Bonaparte 
exclaimed, " And a proper penman you made of me ! 
Ask my wife there.-' Josephine with a laugh made a 
pleasant allusion to the dehghtful letters she had re- 
ceived, and the matter passed off in a glee ; while the 
order for a pension during life was dropped into the 
hand of the wondering visitor. 

As spring came on with its freshening landscape, 
its gentle south wind, and its laughing sky, the Con- 
sul accompanied with Josephine made a tour through 
Normandy and the adjacent provinces. Her last visit 
to that part of France was made with the chivalrous 
Beauharnais, and the years since that excursion, had 
gone full of events that gave to life a sublime and 
tragical interest. With deep and conflicting emotions, 
her thoughts attended memory to the silent strand of 
the past — upon whose sands were the wrecks of for- 
tune, blasted hopes, and the fading footsteps of the 
loved and departed. But her bounding spirit could 
not long be desolate or sad. There were bright 
hours in this romantic travel, and bursts of enthusiasm 
from the people where ever they were recognized, that 
lent a charm to the tour, continued for more than two 
weeks through a country picturesque and peaceful ; 
contrasting delightfully with the exciting scenes of 
the few months before. 

Not long after their return, an incident which oc- 
curred, illustrates finely that coolness for which Duroc 
was distinguished, a trait Bonaparte admired and 
praised. The First Consul had removed his resi- 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 183 

dence to St. Cloud, and furnished the palace in splen- 
did style. One night, fire communicating through a 
flue into the saloon, from an overheated stove, set the 
grand old structure in flames. An officer awakened 
Duroc, who saw the conflagration, and ordering per- 
fect silence, arranged a band of soldiers into the line of 
a fire company, running to the nearest water. Leaping 
into the reservoir, his men followed, and the buckets 
passed with no other sound than the rustle of hands 
rapidly along the chain of men, till the ascending 
column of flame wavered and fell ; within three hours 
all was quiet and safe again. The inmates of the 
edifice were not disturbed, and Josephine entered her 
gorgeous drawing-room in the morning to gaze with 
astonishment on the blackened and flooded ruins. 

Events of decisive importance in the history of 
France and the career of Napoleon, now rapidly fol- 
lowed each other. The concordate re-established the 
church ; the addition of ten years to the consulship, 
and the creation of the Legion of Honor, upon the very 
ruins of institutions aristocratic in their character, were 
successive steps in the progress of the nation towards 
monarchy, and of Bonaparte to its crown and sceptre. 
The opening of the sanctuaries for religious v/orship 
was wholly a stroke of policy in the First Consul. 
It was a measure repulsive to his army, but he knew 
his influence too well in that quarter to shrink from 
enlisting an auxiliary, which had proved to be a wall 
of fire around the despotic sovereigns of Europe. He 
attended mass at Notre Dame, with the devout air of 
a monk-, conciliating his colleague Cambaceres, by ap- 



184 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

pointing his brother to the See of Rouen, and dispen- 
sing similar emoluments where moral considerations 
had no influence, and infidelity poured contempt up- 
on the " superstitious mania." Josephine, though the 
religious element was not marked in her character, 
entered into this measure with zeal, conscious of its 
value as a means of benevolence, and of bringing back 
the exiled to their homes, while the impoverished 
priesthood, scattered and scorned, would also regain 
their privileges, and permanency succeed the fluctua- 
tions in Church and State. 

But none of the changes wrought by the fearless 
and indomitable spirit of Napoleon, conferred upon 
him more strength in his pre-eminence, than the rati- 
fication of peace with England, by the treaty of 
Amiens, signed April 25th, virtually conceding to him 
the goverment of Republican France. It introduced 
the English ambassadors to his Court, and other dis- 
tinguished persons of the British realm. The impres- 
sion Josephine made on these social occasions, was 
mentioned by her noble guests in after years with en- 
thusiastic pleasure. Mr. Fox, especially, was much 
delighted, as he was in turn admired for his simplicity 
of manner, and his resplendent talents. In the eve- 
ning parties at Malmaison, he was always a guest, 
conversing freely with Napoleon, or walking through 
the Botanical gardens with Josephine, where his taste 
was particularly gratified, and its suggestions sought 
by the smiling May Q^ueen of the gay parterre, lean- 
ing upon his arm. So far did the Consul rely upon 
the ambassador's friendship, that he evidently antici- 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 185 

pated in subsequent hostilities, the sympathy of the 
party of which Mr. Fox was the leader — a mistake 
he quickly discovered when threatened invasion 
appealed to the loyalty of the nation — aroused the 
Lion in his sea-girt lair. 

France was again tranquil ; and while the fields 
began to yield their increase, the wine dresser to 
prune his vineyard, and the hum of active millions 
went up from peaceful cities, Paris was the vortex of 
dissipation for the assembled aristocracy, represent- 
ing half a continent of kingdoms. Masked balls, pri- 
vate parties, gaming and theatres, formed the vari- 
ety in this dizzy whirl of exciting pleasures. The 
popular mind cured of its democratic madness, was 
delirious with characteristic frivolity, which wealthy 
foreigners caught like a congenial epidemic, and cher- 
ished with a more lawless indulgence than example 
offered. The gaming houses were embellished richly, 
and thronged continually. Fortunes exchanged 
hands in a moment of time ; the millionaire became 
a beggar, and the penniless won his pile of guineas 
at a single throw. Beautiful women leaned over the 
tables heaped with money, and v/hile dark eyes 
flashed with unnatm-al excitement, the color came 
and went upon those fair faces, where love alone 
should have written his name 

"Upon the marble brow, 
And lingered in their curls of jet," 

till morning threw its gray light upon walls beaded 
with the dew of the languid and heated air. 



186 1,1 FK OK JUSKI'HINIO. 

Tlio Action (las IJtranffor.s- was a Cavorilc r{\s()rt of 
thesis proilii^als of all llial is valiiahlo in lilr, or pc- 
ciiliar lo man as an lu'ir of iiiiuiortiility. Napoleon 
seldom aKciideil any of llios(> convivial scenes, and 
never engaged in play. In laet, \\v was rather a 
model of lemptM-anee in tlie ordinary i»- ratification of 
appetite, and his habits were regvdar and correct. 
Jose|)hini^ liad a relish for lii2:ht arnnsenients when 
not carried to excess, and was often present at least 
us spectator, in the nightly (Milcrtainnients oi' llu^ shi- 
ning throng whose resources and (Miergies seenied 
iiie\hanslihh\ IVhidam Tallien likewise attended, 
and Josephine embraced such occasions tor interviews 
M'ith a frieiul slie covdd not forget, thovigh compelled 
by the (.'onsnl to treat her cavalierly in liis presence. 
The reasons for liis cool treatment of this lady are 
not fully understood. The ostensible one, was lier 
doubtful morality in her matrimonial ailairs ; which 
gains force from 1 lis earnest eiideavor to reform the licen- 
tious manners of the fashionable world, even in regard 
to dress, llo may have felt a little irritation in recol- 
lecting her intlnence upon his destiny, while he would 
arrogate to himself the sole honor of Ins unrivaled 
greatness ; but this could have been only slight if in- 
dvdged at all, so long as the homage of mankind was 
tlu^ grateful incense his majestic mind had won. It 
is related by Memos, that l>eaumarcliais, overheard 
the following conversation at a party, botwa^en Jose- 
phine and Madam Tallien, wliich throws light on the 
subject. 

'^'T declare, my dear 'I'luMvsina/ said the former, 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 187 

' that I havo cloii(3 all friendship could diclalCj hut in 
vain. No later tlian tliis morning I made a new 
ciFoit. Bonaparte would hear of notliing. I can- 
not comprehend what can have prejudiced him so 
strongly against you. You are the only woman 
whose name he has effaced from the list of my par- 
ticidar friends ; and from fear he should manifest his 
disj)leasiue directly against us, have I now come 
hither alone witli my son. At this moment tliey he- 
lieve me sound asleep in my bed in the chateau, (Tu- 
illeries,) but I determined on coming to see, to warn, 
and to console you ; above all, to justify myself.' ' Jo- 
sephine,' replied the other lady, ' I have never doubted 
either the goodness of your heart or the sincerity of 
your affection. Heaven is my witness, that the loss 
of your friendship would be tome much more painful 
than any dread of Bonaparte. In these diliicult 
times I have maintained a conduct that might, perhaps, 
render my visits an honor ; but I will never impor- 
tune you without his consent. He was not Consul 
when Tallien followed him into Egypt — when I re- 
ceived you both into my house — when I shared with 
you ' — here a burst of tears interrupted the speaker's 
words. ' ( 'aim yourself,' replied Josephine ; ' be calm, 
my dear Tlieresina ! let tlie storm pass. I am paving 
the way for a reconciliation ; but we must not irritate 
him more. You know that he does not love Ouv- 
rard, and it is said he often sees you.' 'What, then ! 
because he governs France, does he hope to tyrannize 
over our hearths? must we sacrifice to him our private 
friendships?' At Ihesc words some one knocked ut 



188 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

the door ; it was Beauharnais. ' Madam,' said he, 
' you have been now more than an hour absent ; the 
council of ministers is perhaps over ; what will the 
First Consul say should he not find you on his re- 
turn 7 ' The two ladies slowly descended the stairs, 
still conversing in earnest whisper, followed by Eu- 
gene." 

The suffering of a sensitive spirit is seldom dis- 
closed to the multitude, unless its magnitude renders 
concealment impossible. Josephine's anguish was 
more frequent and intense than is supposed by her 
admirers. While the outward display of rank, if it 
changed its aspect, but assumed like the chameleon, a 
gayer coloring for the one that vanished, the interior 
life of this faithful wife, was filled with the darkest 
shades of sadness, and her heart wrung with the 
throes of agony. A cloud of apprehension indeed, 
hung perpetually upon the horizon of her brightest 
prospects ; it was like a fragment of the tempest's 
ebon-folds left to foreshadow another desolating storm, 
sweeping down upon the fabric of her happiness. 

In May, 1802, Bonaparte was appointed First Consul 
for life, upon which the purpose of forming a new dy- 
nasty became the central object of his thoughts. This 
was fully matured in August, by an edict authori- 
zing him to appoint a successor by testamentary deed. 
The last vestige of republicanism was gone — and it 
was whispered that Josephine would be banished also 
from the palace by divorce^ to prepare the way for an 
heir to the consulate. Lucien almost broke her heart 
by suggesting that if she did not have a son, the Con- 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 189 

Sill must secure by another this first hnk in the chain 
of hereditary succession from the Corsican family. 
Bourienne relates a domestic incident which occurred 
soon afterward, disclosing her intense anxiety on this 
subject. 

" I remember that, one day, after the publication of 
the parallel of Caesar, Cromwell, and Bonaparte, Jo- 
sephine, having entered our cabinet without being an- 
nounced, which she sometimes did, when from the good 
humor exhibited at breakfast, she reckoned upon its 
continuance, approached Bonaparte softly, seated her- 
self on his knee, passed her hand gently through his 
hair and over his face, and, thinking the moment fa- 
vorable, said to him, in a burst of tenderness, * I en- 
treat of you, Bonaparte, do not make yourself a 
king ! It is that Lucien who urges you to it ; do not 
listen to him.' Bonaparte replied, without anger, and 
even smiling as he pronounced the last words, 'You 
are mad, my poor Josephine. It is your old dowagers 
of the Faubourg, Saint-Germain, your Rochefoucalds, 
who tell you all these fables i * * * Come now, 
you interrupt me — leave me alone.' What Bonaparte 
said that day good naturedly to his wife, I often heard 
him declare seriously. I have been present at five or 
six altercations on the subject. That there existed, 
too, an enmity connected with this question between 
the family of Beauharnais and the family of Bona- 
parte, cannot be denied." 

Josephine's fears were farther excited by a new or- 
der of things in the palace. Among the stately for- 
malities introduced, was the occupation by the Consul 
9* 



190 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 

of a separate bed-chamber, in a part of the mansion 
most remote from the apartments of his wife. Until 
this arrangement, they had hved together, with no 
other withdrawal from each other's society than that 
incident to the humblest station. Josephine passed 
sleepless nights, and bathed her pillow with tears. 
She would rather die than be thrust from the arms of 
him, upon whom she lavished her "wealth of love" 
— ^her pride of character, her affections would all be 
crushed by the blow. To a few intimate friends she 
confided the story of her secret forebodings and grief, 
while she assumed in Napoleon's presence, that cheer- 
fulness which irradiated her sweet face with smiles, 
and made her voice musical as the seolian harp. 

The infant son of Hortense diverted the attention of 
Bonaparte, and he now cherished the design of adop- 
ting him as the heir-apparent to his grandeur and 
glory. This circumstance, with continued evidences 
of affection, revived the hopes of Josephine, and she 
again dismissed her fears. 

A few months of tranquility were passed at St. 
Cloud, during which Josephine was active in her 
efforts for the dethroned Bourbons. She enlisted the 
sympathy of others whenever available, and watched 
the varying moods of the Consul with reference to 
the advancement of her cherished design of their re- 
investment with royalty. Her earliest associations 
were in that direction, and she had learned, as we have 
seen, in adversity no less than in prosperity, to feel 
identified with them, and to desire their restoration. 
Besides, she contemplated Napoleon's elevation to a 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 191 

throne witli a shrinking of heart both natural and 
painful. Though the summit was dazzling while 
the heavens were clear, she had been taught by his- 
tory, and read in the events of preceding years the 
startling truth, that the blasts sweep the most fear- 
fully there, and the cloud of rebelhon at any time may 
enfold it, sending forth the lightning to rend and des- 
olate the aerie of grandeur. But negotiations, carried 
on with the weight her influence always urging every 
plausible reason for favor toward the fallen family, were 
at length closed amid the rising tumult of war. The 
English had shamefully violated their treaty within 
a few months after its ratification at Amiens, and in 
the spring of 1803, hostilities were renewed. Napo- 
leon evidently did not wish at this juncture to enter 
the battle-field of nations — he was unprepared for it, 
in addition to motives drawn from the transition state 
of France in her internal improvements, and his un- 
settled policy for the future. His message to the Sen- 
ate was a dignified expression of his unwillingness to 
muster his legions for slaughter. But with the neces- 
sity came the wonder-working energy of his genius. 
Naked soldiers were clothed — conscriptions filled the 
ranks with men — horses and money were suddenly 
abundant, as if created by the touch of the Arabian 
magician, or the volition of his own will. He made 
a tour through the departments, Josephine accompa- 
nying him and receiving every where with the Consul, 
the tumultuous applause of the people. Civic dis- 
play, deafening acclamations, splendid presents, and 
wreaths of gorgeous flowers, made their progress a 



192 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

scene of joyful homage the proudest king might vainly 
desire. At Boulogne, she saw the gathered regiments 
of a Kingdom, still styled the Republic. They 
stretched along the coast in four distinct camps, pre- 
senting from the heights a wall of threatening bat- 
teries, beneath whose shadow the British fleet dotted 
the ocean and haughtily watched the foe. 

The port was guarded by a flotilla stretching across 
its entrance, numbering two hundred gun-boats which 
together carried fifteen hundred cannon ; and added 
to this protection, was a massive iron chain running 
from fort to fort along the mouth of the harbors, upon 
whose waters besides the vessels mentioned, floated 
seventeen hundred smaller craft for landing the aiTny. 
Two hundred thousand soldiers waited for the com- 
mand to put this naval force in motion, and hasten to 
open its more than two thousand pieces of ordinance 
upon the enemies of France. Never before had Jo- 
sephine beheld so much of the terrible might wielded 
by Napoleon. The salutes which greeted him and were 
answered by the hostile thunder of English guns, she 
felt to be only a faint echo of what that vast ma- 
chinery of death could do, Avhen its united roar fol- 
lowing the iron hail, shook the field of conflict, or went 
booming over a tide red with the blood of falling ranks 
of brave men as ever trod the deck in battle. 

It has been doubted whether after all Bonaparte in- 
tended an invasion of England — deemed it possible 
to seek and subdue the enemy upon British soil. 
Bourrienne to prove that it was a manoeuvre, similar 
to the one which he made when about embarking for 



LIFE OF josephinp:. 193 

Egypt, narrates the following interview with the 
Consul : 

" Bonaparte came into the grand saloon where J. 
awaited him, and addressing me in the most good 
humored way, inquired, after having made a few 
trifling observations, ' What do they say of my pre- 
parations for the descent upon England? ' ' General,' 
I replied, ' there is a great difference of opinion on the 
subject. Every one speaks as he would wish it. Su- 
chet, for instance, who comes to see me very often, 
does not doubt but that it will take place, and hopes 
to give you on that occasion a fresh proof of his grat- 
itude and fidelity.' ^ But Suchet tells me that you do 
not believe it.' 'That is true, I certainly do not.' 
' Why J ' ' Because you told me at Antwerp, five 
years ago, that you would not risk France on the 
cast of a die — that it was too hazardous— and nothing 
has changed since that time to render it more proba- 
ble.' ' You are right ; those who believe in a descent 
are blockheads. They do not see the affair in its 
true light. I can doubtless land with one hundred 
thousand men. A great battle will be fought, which 
I shall gain ; but I must calculate upon thirty thou- 
sand men killed, wounded, or taken prisoners. If I 
march on London, a second battle will be fought ; I 
shall suppos^ myself again victorious ; but what shall 
I do in London with an army reduced three-fourths, 
and without a hope of reinforcements ? It would be 
madness. Until our navy acquires superiority, it 
would be a perilous project. The great assemblage 
of troops in the north has another object. My govern- 



194 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE* 

ment must be the first, or it must fall' Bonaparte 
then evidently wished to deceive with respect to his 
intentions, and he did so. He wished it to be believed 
that he intended a descent upon England, merely to 
fix the attention of Europe in that direction. It was 
at Dunkirk that he caused all the various plans for 
improving the ports to be discussed, and on this occa- 
sion he spoke a great deal on his ulterior views re- 
specting England, which had the effect of deceiving 
the ablest around him." 

But it is clear that the writer himself was deceived 
— the astonishing scheme was laid, and had not its 
execution been defeated, he would have rocked to its 
base the throne of George, or left the flower of his 
kingdom aromid that ancient seat of power. The 
nation favored enthusiastically the expedition, and 
withheld nothing that would secure it, Josephine, 
it is said, was deeply moved by a little incident illus- 
trating this popular ardor, which took place in a small 
village near Boulogne. A deputation waited on Na- 
poleon, and one of the number thus addressed him : 

^^ General, we are here, twenty fathers of families, 
who present to you twenty gallant youths, to be now 
and always under your orders. Accept of them, gen- 
eral ; they are able to do good service when you reach 
England. As for ourselves, we have another duty to 
discharge ; our hands shall labor the soil, that bread 
may not be wanting to the brave men destined to 
crush England." 

The encampments of Boulogne were the scene of 
varied amusements, and many rash adventures. Ga- 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 195 

ming, with its dissipation and quarrels, was indulged 
without restraint— and duels were fought. It was 
here that the combat between two hundred soldiers 
of the infantry and line, and the same number of 
grenadiers of the guard occurred, Bonaparte's praise 
of the former, repeated by the people in snatches of 
injudicious rhyme composed by those he flattered, as 
they loitred at evening around the camp , was the origi- 
nal cause of the quarrel. This sword fight commen- 
ced just after day-dawn, and for an hour the slaughter 
went on like a gladiatorial strife, when a regiment of 
cavalry under General Hilaire, reached the ground and 
arrested the desperate game. Bonaparte reproved and 
humbled the offenders by a brief address, and by pub- 
lication of the very trifles that incensed those against 
whom their detraction was aimed. Several pleasant 
stories are told respecting the gayeties of this prelude to 
warfare which wrote on the ^'•dead lisV the names of 
many gallant forms that danced in the mirth of " wine 
and wassail," till the "noon of night." The First 
Consul himself contributed to the merriment by some- 
times attending the soirees in disguise — and after en- 
joying the familiarities of the pastime, would retire 
and surprise the fair entertainer with a note of thanks 
over the signature, Bonaparte. 

The return of Napoleon and Josephine to the capi- 
tal, was distinguished by the same extravagant exhi- 
bitions of affection that marked his route before. All 
that the inhabitants could do to make it a brilliant 
pageant — the triumphal march of a mysterious being, 
at the same time, hero, monarch and citizen, was lav- 



196 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

ished freely upon him. Escaping threatened assas- 
sination by the way, he soon reposed again in the 
palace of St. Cloud. 

One day he rode with Josephine and Cambaceres 
in the park after three span of noble bays, presented 
to him at Antwerp. The notion seized him of driving 
them himself for experiment ; and taking the reins, 
he mounted the coachman's seat. The horses were 
instantly aware that a hand unused to their govern- 
ment, guided the bit, and lifting their heads, they 
snuffed the air of freedom, and dashed away at their 
own lightning speed. In spite of Cambaceres' cry 
of " Stop ! Stop ! " and Caesar's shout as the car- 
riage approached the gateway of the avenue, " To 
the left ! to the left ! " the coach struck the heavy 
pillars like a ship the rock, overturning it and bringing 
the bays to a sudden halt. Josephine and the Sec- 
ond Consul Cvscaped from the wreck but slightly in- 
jured, and Bonaparte thrown several rods, was taken 
to his apartment insensible. After recovery and mu- 
tual repartee, he alluded with a serious air to the near- 
ness of death in this accident ; then folding his arms 
in thoughtful mood, said to Josephine, with a hurried 
tone, ^'But what is death ? It is merely a sleep with- 
out dreams ! " And yet he was sad in the momen- 
tary contem.plation of a slumber that would dispel for- 
ever, a dream more splendid than any mortal beside 
had ever known — a spell that made the wide earth 
his threatre of glory, and poured down the long future 
the music of his name. He evidently attached no 
value to life as probation for an endless state — nor 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 197 

did he think deeply upon a destiny beyond that hori- 
zon whose circle touched the cradle and the grave. 
The want of early religious culture, and consequently 
the dulness or perversion of his moral sensibilities, 
together with a quenchless thirst for distinction, ren- 
dered him wholly forgetful that it requires two worlds 
to complete the career of man, and make out his title 
to immortality ! 



CHAPTER VII. 

Josephine and thh DourtBON Conspikators.— Duke D'Enghiek.— His death. 

Jossphink's grief and hsk, sympathy for the coNSPiRATOus.— Eona- 

parte's movements.— His Ambition.— Views of the Senate —Bona- 
parte BECOMES Emperor ofFrance.— Oath administered to the Legion 
OF Honor.— Emotions of Josephine.— Koyal Court. — Excursion to 
Boulogne.— The Princess of Baden.— Incidents.— Josephine's forebol- 
LNGfi.— Religious marriage of Josephine.— The Coronation. 

We have seen Josephine emerge from comparative 
obscurity, and rise step by step toward the summit of 
earthly grandeur ; each successive stage of advance- 
ment seeming designed as well as fitted to develop 
and display those exquisitely feminine charms, which 
nature had so prodigally lavished upon her. Placed 
by the astonishing fortunes of her husband in ever 
shifting and untried social positions, where the utmost 
purity and refinement of nature, with the most deli- 
cate tact and grace of manner, were necessary to 
give to her station, and that of her husband, dignity 
and respectability, and even to secure the continued 
possession of acquired advantages, her intuitive sense 
of propriety seems never to have been at fault ; while 
her seeming good nature and the tenderness of her 
sympathies, gained the hearts of all about her. 
These tender sympathies were now to be called into ex- 
ercise toward an unfortunate class hitherto unknown : 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 199 

namely, the victi?ns of her husband's tyranny. Bo- 
naparte, the soldier of fortune, by his genius and en- 
ergy restoring something like order to the distracted 
councils of his adopted country, rising by the superi- 
ority of his talent and character, from height to height 
of power, until the ?iame only of sovereignty was 
wanting to his ambition — has commanded our ad- 
miration ; for hitherlo he had in form at least res- 
pected the rights and liberties of the people, and was 
yet unstained with crime. But now that success had 
left him little to aspire to, he began like common and 
vulgar tyrants, to seek to secure his dominion by 
sweeping from his path whatever might endanger it, 
even should it cost the sacrifice of innocent blood. 

Several friends of the Bourbon family, among 
whom were Georges, the Polignacs, Pichagru, Moreau 
and others of less celebrity, were about this time sus- 
pected of a conspiracy to restore that dynasty, and 
place a Bourbon on the throne. 

They held frequent meetings in Paris, to consult 
as to the bias of public sentiment, the expediency of 
revolution, &c., and at length seem to have been con- 
vinced of the impracticableness of their schemes, and 
to have been about quietly to depart from Paris, Avhen 
they were suddenly arrested by the police, (who up 
to this time seem to have watched and connived at 
their proceedings,) and were thrown into prison to 
await their trial. In the mean time there resided in 
the Duchy of Baden on the frontier of France, a young 
prince of the Bourbon family, the Duke d' Enghien, 
a grandson of the Prince De Conde, a soldier, who 



200 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

after fighting many years in the continental wars, was 
living on a pension allowed him by the British gov- 
ernment. On pretence that he was privy to the de- 
signs of the conspirators in Paris, and intended to profit 
by them when matured, he was seized by night and 
hm-ried to the citadel of Strasburg, where he remained 
until orders could be received from Paris, then carried 
to Vincennes, and after the mockery of trial, was shot 
by a file of soldiers, and buried in the ditch surround- 
ing the fortress. The whole proceedure was so ille- 
gal, so sanguinary, so uncalled for, that it astonished 
Europe ; and as it is an instructive lesson, as to the 
effects of a lawless ambition, we quote a passage. 

" This sanguinary scene took place at the Castle of 
Yincennes. It was General Ordener, commandant of 
the horse grenadiers of the guard, who received orders 
from the minister at war to proceed to the Rhine, to 
give instructions to the chiefs of the gendarmerie of 
NcAV Brissac, which was placed at his disposal. This 
general sent a detachment of gendarmerie to Etten- 
hiem, where the Duke d' Enghien was arrested on the 
15th of March, 1804. He was immediately conducted 
to the citadel of Strasbourg, where he remained until 
the 18th, to give time for orders being received from 
Paris. These orders were given rapidly, and promptly 
executed, for the carriage which conveyed the unfor- 
tunate prince, arrived at the barrier at eleven o'clock 
on the morning of the 20th. It remained there for 
five hours, and then departed by the exterior boule- 
varde on the road to Yincennes, where it arrived at 
night. Every scene of this horrible affair took place 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 201 

during the night— the sun did not even shine upon 
its tragic close. The soldiers had orders to proceed 
to Vincennes during the night ; it was at night that 
the fatal gates were closed upon the prince — at night 
the council assembled to try him, or rather to con- 
demn him without trial. When the clock struck six 
on the morning of the 21st of March, the order was 
given to fire, and the prince ceased to live. Here let 
me be permitted to make a reflection. When the 
dreadful intelligence of the death of the Duke d' Eng- 
hien reached Paris, it excited a feeling of consterna- 
tion which recalled the recollection of the days of ter- 
ror. Ah ! if Bonaparte could have seen the gloom 
which pervaded the capital, and compared it with the 
joy which was exhibited on the day when he returned 
victorious from the field of Marengo, he would have 
considered that he had tarnished his glory with a 
stain which nothing could ever efface." 

In the examination in the council chamber, many 
interrogatories were put to him respecting his family, 
his employments, his acquaintance with Pichegru 
and others of the conspirators, and nothing in his an- 
swers tended in the least to implicate him in any plan 
of ambition or scheme of treachery. On the contra- 
ry every thing showed him to be ingenuous, noble and 
unsuspecting. He earnestly entreated an interview 
with the First Consul, and much blame has attached 
to Savary, the commander of the fortress, for not de- 
laying his execution. This event filled all minds 
with horror. 

Chateaubriand who was then high in favor with 



202 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

Napoleon, and had just been appointed minister pleni- 
potentiary to the Vallais, instantly resigned his ap- 
pointment on hearing of the Duke's death. This was 
a strong rebuke to Bonaparte, for as Bourrienne re- 
marks, " it said plainly, ' you have committed a crime, 
and I will not serve a government which is stained 
with the blood of a Bourbon ! ' " In England, Bona- 
parte was constantly styled in some of the leading 
journals, " the assassin of the Duke d' Enghein." But 
no heart felt the blow more acutely than that of Jose- 
phine. She had from some cause feared this step on 
the part of her husband, and had earnestly endeav- 
ored to dissuade him from his purpose. On the fatal 
morning of the 21st of March, when Napoleon's fa- 
vorite attendant came into his room, he found him 
alone, pale and haggard, and complaining of having 
passed a dreadful night. He rose, but before he had 
finished his toilet, Josephine rushed into the room from 
her own distant apartments, with her countenance 
bathed in tears, and every personal care neglected, 
crying, " The Duke d' Enghein is dead ! oh my friend, 
what hast thou done?" and threw herself on his 
bosom. Napoleon is said to have shown extraordi- 
nary emotion, and to haveexclaimjcd, "The wretches ! 
they have been too hasty ! " He then supported Jose- 
phine along the corridor to her own chamber, seeking 
to impart to her that consolation which he vainly 
sought for himself Her grief was at least unattended 
by rem.orse. We will add a narrative related by Ma- 
dam Decrest, of Josephine's own account of her ina- 
bility to prevent the sad catastrophe. 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 203 

•' The Emperor^ was cruelly counseled. Of him- 
self he never would have conceived the idea of such 
a design. Once resolved, no power on earth could 
prevent its execution, so firm was his determination 
in all things, and so great the dread he entertained of 
being taxed with irresolution. But I am persuaded 
that often has he lamented over a too prompt obe- 
dience on the part of others. There are facts which 
I dare not disclose, lest I should give up to infamy 
the real authors of the death of the Duke d' Enghien. 
History luill speak and the truth be known. Finally, 
General Moreau proved the innocent cause of that 
fatal resolution. Napoleon and he were conversing 
about the Bourbons, when the former asked if there 
was a soldier in the family ? ' Yes,' replied the gen- 
eral, ' they are all brave 1 The Duke d' Enghien is 
besides an excellent officer, and much loved by the 
soldiery. He is a worthy scion of the house of 
Conde.' ' Is he ambitious ? ' 'As to that I cannot 
answer : but from his manner of fighting he appears 
to aspire to a glory which cannot long be satisfied 
with foreign service.' 'This eulogium,' added the 
empress, ' disquieted Napoleon, and several times he 
reverted to the subject. In order to calm these ap- 
prehensions, a crime was proposed to him. Never 
can I cease to think with abhorence of those who urged 
him to it. They have proved his worst enemies.'' '' 

One affecting incident in this bloody tragedy, proves 
the appreciation by all who knew her, of the tender- 
ness and sympathy of Josephine's nature. The young 
Duke at the time of his arrest, was tc^nderlv and af- 



204 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

fectionately attached to a young lady, to enjoy whose 
society he had taken up his residence in the town 
where she Uved. When he found that he had but a 
few moments to hve, he placed his picture and a lock 
of his hair in the hands of a messenger to be conve^^ed 
to Josephine ; that through her it might reach the ob- 
ject of his aifections. 

The conspirators, as they were termed, had their 
trial during the May and June following the Duke 
d' Enghein's death, with the exception of Pichegru, 
who was found dead in his prison. The trial seems 
to have proved that assassination had never been con- 
templated ; and that the design was mainly to ascer- 
tain the true state of public feeling, which had been 
represented by some factious intriguers as favorable 
to the Bourbons. The prisoners were all young and 
their situation created universal sympathy. Still, 
Bonaparte, as if having like Macbeth, resolved on the 
death of all whose lives might be dangerous to his 
future throne, sanctioned the decree of the special 
tribunal which condemned to death twenty of these 
unfortunate men ; a decree which filled Paris, and 
indeed all France with mourning. Much etTort was 
made by the prisoners and their friends to obtain from 
Bonaparte a repeal of the sentence, which was suc- 
cessful in respect to six of them. The others were 
executed. As will readily be supposed, no one was 
more zealous and ardent in endeavors to procure their 
pardon than Josephine. She had protested to a friend 
that the death of the Duke d' Enghien " embittered 
every moment of her life ; " and now she was to have 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 205 

the anguish of seeing twenty famihes, many of them 
among the noblest in the land, thrown into the deep- 
est affliction by the execution of this barbarous sen- 
tence. It was to her, too, that all appeals were made 
by the heart-broken petitioners ; and in the presence 
of friends, she touchingly lamented her inability to 
answer all of them. 

While Napoleon was thus awing the disaffected by 
his summary proceedings against suspected traitors, 
he was not neglecting a more effectual means of 
strengthening his government, in making it popular 
with the people. France, at his accession to power, 
was almost in the condition of a country that has 
been over-run and pillaged by a foreign army : Bo- 
naparte bent all the energies of his wonderful intellect 
to her restoration to prosperity. Public improvements^ 
from the most minute to the most gigantic were pro- 
jected and executed under his own supervision in every 
part of his kingdom ; while the celerity of his own 
movements, and the system of espionage by which he 
watched the movements of those who were employed 
in his service, seemed to give him something like om- 
nipresence. Conscious of, and perhaps even over es- 
timating his extraordinary powers, flushed with the 
success that had hitherto attended him in every en- 
terprise he had undertaken, he already began to con- 
ceive himself " the Man of Destiny," whose office on 
earth was to overthrow the existing governments of 
Europe, perhaps of the world, and to form on their 
ruins one mighty empire of which himself should be 

the centre and the ruler. As he could not but admit 
10 



206 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

however, that though he might seem to be a " god," 
" yet he must die hke men, and fall like one of the 
princes," it was with him also a most important ob- 
ject to secure a successor to whom he might bequeath 
this vast inheritance of pov/er and responsibility. To 
pave the way for the accomplishment of these designs, 
he had long aspired to make himself Emperor of 
France, with the right of hereditary succession in his 
own family. Yet with the consummate tact that dis- 
tinguished him, he chose to keep himself in the back 
ground, and not to receive this new dignity, till it 
should seem to be forced upon him by the urgent en- 
treaties of the senate and the people. Constantly in- 
fluencing the opinions of the senate by secret agencies, 
he found in that body the most complete subserviency 
to his wishes, while in the name of Liberty, Equality 
and the Republic, he was about to assume a power 
more absolute than had been enjoyed by any sove- 
reign since Charlemagne. The senate, while fervent 
in their congratulations to Bonaparte on his escape 
from conspiracy, or as they termed it, from the daggers 
of England, entreated him to " consolidate his work," 
meaning that he should make himself Emperor, and 
establish hereditary succession. The agents of gov- 
ernment throughout France, had long been soliciting 
the first consul to grant for the people what the people 
did not want ; in short every thing was ripe for the 
change of the republic into an empire. On the 18th 
of May therefore. Napoleon was named Emperor, and 
the Bonapartean dynasty established. At the same 
time, suddenly, as if by the aid of magic, the ancient 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 207 

order of things, the distinctions of rank titles, decora- 
tions, &c,, were restored. 

On Sunday, the 15th of July, the Emperor appeared 
for the first time before the Parisians surrounded by 
all the pomp of royalty. On that day the Emperor 
and Empress, attended by a magnificent cavalcade, 
repaired to the church of the " Invalides," where they 
were received by the clergy, who went through cer- 
tain religious ceremonies, when, after some flattering 
addresses, Bonaparte rose, and said in a firm voice, 
" Commanders, officers, legionaries, citizens, soldiers ! 
swear upon your honor to devote yourselves to the 
service of the empire, to the preservation of the integ- 
rity of the French territory, to the defence of the Em- 
peror, of the laws of the republic, and of the property 
which they have made sacred — in short, swear to 
concur with all your might in maintaining liberty and 
equality, which are the bases of all our institutions. 
Do you swear ? " 

" Each member of the Legion of Honor exclaimed, 
'/ swear ; ' adding, ' Vive Venipereur ! ' with an en- 
thusiasm it is impossible to describe, and in which all 
present joined." 

Josephine had now verified in her experience the 
prediction of the sybil in her native island ; she was 
dueen, nay, Empress of France ! But was she happy ? 
Read an interesting letter addressed by her to her 
husband during his temporary absence from home, 
and see with what mournful foreboding she contem- 
plated an event which had raised her to the summit 
of earthly glory : 



208 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

" My Friend, — For tlie tenth time, perhaps, have 
I perused your letter, and must confess that the 
amazement into which it threw me subsides only to 
give place to sorrow and apprehension. You per- 
sist, then, in the resolution to re-establish the throne 
of Francis, and yet not to restore those who were 
deposed by the Revolution, but to seat yourself 
thereon ? What power, you ask — what grandeur — 
and above all, what advantage in this design ! And 
for my part, I venture to reply. What obstacles pre- 
sent themselves to its success 1 how great the sacri- 
fices wliich nnist be made before its accomplishment 
can bo secured ! how far beyond calculation the con- 
sequences should it be realized ! But let us admit 
that your purpose does succeed, will your views ter- 
minate with the founding of a new empire ? Will 
not your power, opposed, as to a certainty it must 
be, by the neighboring states, draw you into a war 
with them ? This will probably end in their ruin. 
Will not their neighbors, beholding these cflects, 
combine in turn for your destruction ? While abroad 
such is the state of things, at home how numerous 
the envious and discontented ! — how many plots to 
disconcert, and conspiracies to punish ! Kings will 
despise you as an upstart, the people will hate you 
as a usurper, your equals as a tyrant ; none will com- 
prehend tlie utility of your elevation ; all will assign 
it to ambition or to pride. Doubtless, there will not 
be wanting slaves who Avill cringe to your power, 
until, backed by another which they esteem a more 
formidable inihience, they will seek to elevate them- 



LIFIi OF JOSEPH INK. 209 

selves on your ruin. Fortunate, also, beyond hope, 
if steel — if poison ! — a wife, a friend, dare not give 
l^ause to alarmed imagination on images so dreadful. 
Tliis brings me to myself, a subject about which my 
concern would be small indeed if I only were inter- 
ested. Ijut, with the throne, will thcire not likewise 
arise the desire of new alliances ? Will you not con- 
sider it necessary, by new family ties, to provide 
for the more effectual security of that throne ? Oh ! 
whatever such connexions might be, could they prove 
like those formed at first in propriety, and which 
affections the most Utwhtr havri since consecrated ! 
1 stop at this perspective, which fear — must I say 
love ? — traces in an appalling futurity. You have 
alarmed me by your ambitious flight ; restore my 
confidence by your return to moderation." 

A friend calling upon her about this time, and 
finding her in a gardf^n, saluted her by the title of 
"Your majesty." "Ah!" she replied, with a tone 
and manner that went to his heart, " I entreat that 
you will suffer me. at least here, to forget that I am 
an Empress." All chroniclers agree, that while in 
public she was receiving congratulations and adula- 
tion from all classes, with a grace and benignity that 
charmed all around her, her heart was ill at ease ; 
constantly fearing that Napoleon would sacrifice to 
ambition and selfisFi pohcy her whole domestic peace 
and happiness, besides, the etiquette of a court which 
was attempted to be rigidly maintained around her, 
was irksome in the extreme to one whose natural 
ease and grace never needed the curb of formal rules. 



210 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

She is said to have written : " The nearer my hus- 
band approached the highest step to which fortune 
sometimes elevates men, the dimmer became my last 
gleam of happiness. 'Tis true I enjoyed a magnifi- 
cent existence. My court was composed of persons 
of great name, of ladies of the first rank, who all soli- 
cited the honor of being presented to me. But I could 
no longer dispose of my time. I was constrained to 
submit at all times to the rigorous usages of etiquette, 
and the Emperor directed that it should be as severe 
as it anciently had been at the chateau of Versailles. 
He was receiving from every part of France congrat- 
ulations upon his advent to the throne ; while I my- 
self sighed in contemplating the immense power he 
had acquired. The more I saw him loaded with the 
gifts of fortune, the more I feared his fall." 

The determination of Bonaparte to form a court 
unlike that of his predecessors in the outward mo- 
rality at least of its members, was honorable to him, 
and approved by Josephine, excepting his extreme 
views on the subject. He beheld in the dissolute- 
ness of the nobility and courtiers of former reigns the 
slow progress of a social disease, which more than 
any other cause brought on the convulsions in state, 
that shook down the political edifice, amid the groans 
and slaughter of millions. But his impetuous spirit 
erred in excessive caution which excluded those the 
Empress and even himself in better moods, would 
have favored with appointments among the royal reti- 
nue. This will be seen in Josephine's letter to Madam 
Girardine^ formerly Dutchess d'Aiguillen, who was a 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 211 

fellow captive with her, and it will be recollected 
aided kindly Madam Beauharnais. 

" My dear FrienDj — I am most afflicted — and far 
indeed from beholding my wishes fulfilled, as ancient 
friends may suppose, who will doubtless believe, 
that if I do not see them it is because I have forgot- 
ten the past. Alas ! no ; on the contrary, I remem- 
ber it but too well, and my thoughts dwell upon it 
more than I would ; for the more I think upon what 
they did for me, the greater is my sorrow at being 
unable to do now what my heart dictates. The 
Empress of France is but the first slave in the em- 
pire, and cannot acquit the debts of Madam de 
Beauharnais ! This constitutes the torture of my 
life and will explain why you do not occupy a place 
near me ; why I do not see Madam Tallien ; in fine, 
why several ladies, formerly our confidential friends, 
would be strangers to me, were not my memory 
faithful. The emperor, indignant at the total dis- 
regard of morality, and alarmed at the progress it 
might still make, is resolved that the example of a 
life of regularity and of religion shall be given 
in the palace where he commands. Desirous of 
strengthening more and more the church re-estab- 
lished by himself, and unable to change the laws 
appointed by her observances, his intention is at 
least to keep at a distance from his court all those 
who may have profited by the possibility of divorce. 
This he has promised to the pope ; and hitherto has 
kept his word. Hence the cause of his refusing the 
favor I asked of having you with me. The refusal 



212 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE, 



has occasioned me unspeakable regret ; but he is too 
absolute to leave even the hope of seeing him retract. 
I am thus constrained to renounce the pleasure which 
I had promised myself of being constantly with you, 
studying to make you forget the sovereign in the 
friend. Pity my lot in being too public a personage 
to follow my own inclination, and cherish for me a 
friendship, the remembrance of which gives me now 
as much pleasure as its reality afforded consolation 
in prison. Often do I regret that small, dark, and 
dismal chamber which we shared together, for there 
at least I could pour out my whole heart — and was 
sincerely beloved in return," 

In speaking of the etiquette of the court of Napo- 
leon, it is proper to say, that if the Emperor and Em- 
press conformed to it with a grace which gave it dig- 
nity, this was by no means the case with the "new" 
men and women on whom had been conferred posts 
of honor in the establishment. Much awkwardness 
was doubtless displayed, and many blunders com- 
mitted by these '-^ parvenus ^^^ as they were termed by 
those aristocrats and other members of the ancient 
regime, to whom the manners of a court were familiar. 
Napoleon, who if he might be said to fear any thing, 
feared ridicule ; and who seemed to regard it as es- 
sential to his prosperity to conciliate the favor of the 
ancient noblesse, called as many of that class as pos- 
sible around him ; and insisted on their punctilious 
observance of all the rules which had guided the con- 
duct of the nobility of " the old school." An instance 
is related, probably with some exaggeration, when in 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 213 

the first progress made by their imperial majesties, a 
drawing room was to be held in one of the cities on 
the Rhenish frontier : — 

" The important affair of presentation occupied of 
course the thoughts of every one who had any claim 
to that honor. One of the ladies aspirants to this dis- 
tinction, knowing a friend who had been presented, 
wrote for instructions, and received the following : 
' You make three courtesies ; one on entering the sa- 
loon, one in the middle, and a third a few paces far- 
ther on, en pirouette.^* This last proved a complete 
mystery, and had nearly turned all the respectable 
heads in Cologne, the scene of expected operations. 
A consultation was called, the letter communicated, 
and deep deliberation ensued. Many of the ladies 
were old — en pirouette ! — very difficult ; some of Ger- 
man blood, were tall — en pirouette ! — very awkward ; 
some were young — en pirouette ! — might tumble — 
very bad that ; some were short — en pirouette ! — 
looked squat, and they drew themselves up ; in fine, 
all found the reverence en pirouette to be a very ques- 
tionable experiment. At length, a member of the 
divan proposed the alternative, that since resigning 
the honor was not even to be thought of, they should 
prepare by exercise and practice, for duly appearing 
in the court circular. No sooner said than done ; the 
decision gave universal satisfaction. The conclave 
broke up ; and for the next fifteen days, in all the 
drawing-rooms of the venerable city of Cologne, 

* En pirouette — whirling on the point of the toes. 
10* 



214 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

from morning till night, the ladies were twirling 
away like so many spinning-tops or dancing der- 
vishes. Nothing was talked of during the same 
space but these evolutions ; how many circumgira- 
tions one could make and yet keep her feet ; how 
many falls another had got, or how gracefully a third 
performed. Happily, on the evening when the court 
did actually arrive, and consequently on that prece- 
ding the ceremonial, which had given rise to all this 
activity, the original propounder of the Tnotion be- 
thought her of calling upon one of the Empress' ladies 
for still more precise instructions. The redoubted 
pirouette was now found to have been misunder- 
stood, implying simply a gentle inclination, in rising, 
towards the personages of the court ; and Josephine 
had the satisfaction of being amused by the recital 
in private, and thus escaped the mortification of be- 
holding her visitors of the morrow transferred into so 
many rotary machines." 

For Josephine, " the etiquette of which at first she 
chiefly complained, was that which compelled her to 
remain seated while she received those who had re- 
cently been her equals, or even her superiors in rank." 
But if obliged to assume this semblance of superiority, 
she quickly removed all the coldness and formality 
it might have occasioned, by her friendly warmth of 
manner toward her old acquaintance. Even her 
humble domestics found her always interested in 
whatever related to their health or comfort, or their 
establishment in life. She would sometimes even 
submit to be annoyed by intrusion and importunity, 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 215 

rather than wound the feelings of those who appUed 
to her. 

"With all her native gracefulness of manner — she 
plainly felt more embarrassment in the observance of 
imperial forms than Napoleon. She once remarked 
upon this subject, " most truly do I regard the Empe- 
ror as a man who has no equal. In camps, at the 
council-board, they find him extraordinary, but in the 
interior of his palace he ever appeared to me still 
more remarkable." 

Bonaparte in selecting his marshals, planning a de- 
cisive battle, and in the ordering of his court, exhib- 
ited the same profound knowledge of human nature, 
and sublime confidence in his own unaided powers, 
whatever the emergency that demanded their action. 
He looked for qualities not titles, in those he called 
about him to carry forward measures that came from 
the crucible of his intense thought, bearing alone his 
"image and superscription ;" and despised pomp except 
when indispensable in the centralization and support 
of his regal authority. Josephine understood this 
phase of his character perfectly, and thus spoke of it 
in the charity and admiration of a noble wife. " Lan- 
nes, who enjoyed full license of speech, made mock- 
ery of what he termed '■ the hypocrisies of political 
worship ;' but, estimating such things at their real 
value, the Emperor regards them under relations more 
elevated, and conceives that, in the eyes of the peo- 
ple, they conduce to restore to power the majesty and 
ascendency which so many years of anarchy had de- 
stroyed. He grants, in truth, that their principal 



216 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

influence springs from the personal qualities of those 
invested with the supreme rule ; but he maintains, 
that, without equaling or superseding these qualities 
ceremonial institutions may supply their place with 
advantage. In supporting such a system Napoleon 
shows himself at least very disinterested, for who 
can stand less in need of appliances to impose upon 
men than one who seems born to govern ? In proof 
of his argument he adduces the example of a crowd 
of princes who have reigned, so to speak, rather 
seated or lying than standing upright, but whose 
couch guarded by the barriers of etiquette, has been 
respected like a sanctuary." 

The Empress while thus moving amid the splen- 
dor of her exaltation, continued to embrace gladly 
every opportunity of alleviating the sorrow of those 
who had suffered in the revolutionary struggles of the 
nation. A note addressed to Madam de Montesson, 
(mother-in-law of Louis Phillippe, Napoleon's succes- 
sor in majesty and dethronement,) upon receiving an 
elegant gift from her, accompanied with beautiful 
specimens of embroidery wrought by Madam la Tour 
and her daughter, as an expression of gratitude for 
the Empress' interpostion in behalf of their relatives, 
the Polignacs, is another turn to the kaleidescope 
of her manifold virtues. 

" Being prevented from oifering in person my good 
wishes on this day, I console myself in the assurance 
that you give me credit for their sincerity. I send 
you two vases, which will recall me to your remem- 
brance, though the flowers upon them are far from 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 217 

being so beautiful as those painted by your hand upon 
my charming table of white marble. I value it as 
every thing deserves to be valued that comes from 
you, and request you again to accept my thanks. 
Marshal Berthier tells me he dines with you to-day. 
He loves you ; and on that account have I commis- 
sioned him to repeat, in my name, how much I regret 
not being able to follow my own inclination, which 
would quite naturally lead me to Romainville, to join 
your family and numerous friends, at the head of 
whom I have the presumption to place myself, though 
I can but so rarely enjoy my share of the pleasure 
which they derive from a conversation agreeable to 
all, instructive and useful to most. 

'^ The poor woman whom you recommended to me 
is satisfied with a small appointment for her son. It 
will afford time for something better. Be assured, I 
will not forget them. Present my thanks to the ladies 
of your circle, for the beautiful works I received from 
them. It is decided, that every one who approaches 
you shall possess some perfection. Why, then, am I 
so far distant ? Adieu, c/ear mamma. Love me, and 
let me ever have your advice : for it is very difficult 
to fill the place which I occupy to the satisfaction of 
all — and that is what I wish." 

Josephine has been accused of extravagance. In- 
deed it cannot be doubted that her expenses seemed 
extremely lavish to her husband, who would at any 
time "rather expend a million francs, than see a 
thousand wasted." But though we must own that her 
facile nature made her too ready to purchase of those 



218 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

who were constantly pressing upon her the most costly- 
articles, with the most cogent reasons for her buying 
them; still, a record of her expenses, had she kept 
one, would probably show, that much of her property 
was bestowed in charity. Her heart melted at a tale 
of suffering, nor could the frequent impositions prac- 
ticed upon her, make her hand lees ready to bestow 
its bounty. She herself said in answering a charge of 
extavagance conveyed to her from her husband by a 
friend : "When I have money, Bourrienne, you know 
how I employ it. I give it principally to the unfortu- 
nate who solicit my assistance, and to the poor emi- 
grants. But I will try to be more economical in fu- 
ture. Tell the Emperor so, if you see him again. 
But is it not my duty to bestow as much charity as 
lean?" 

Soon after Bonaparte was declared Emperor, and 
before his coronation, he determined to visit Boulogne, 
and distribute among the army there assembled the 
decorations of the Legion of Honor. It was arranged 
that the Empress should leave her home on the same 
day, and meet him in Belgium. Josephine, as was 
usual when she journeyed without her husband, was 
attended by several ladies and gentlemen of the court ; 
and every circumstance of the journey, the routes, the 
stopping places, the addresses to the authorities, &c., 
were unalterably determined upon beforehand by Na- 
poleon, and set down in a manuscript volume of instruc- 
tions. To these Josephine rigidly adhered, constantly 
silenceing any suggestion of change, with the expres- 
sion, " He has said it, and it 7nust he right." Never was 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 219 

the amiability and sweetness of her disposition moro 
conspicuous than on these journeys. Every opportu- 
nity of showing attention to the tastes and feeUngs of 
her attendants, was embraced with readiness, and with 
an unostentatious simphcity, that won their hearts. 
Sometimes her good-nature was excessive, and ex- 
posed her to vexation from the pretension of some 
whom concession always renders exacting. When 
traveling, Josephine would often breakfast in some de- 
lightful spot, under the shade of a tree, overlooking a 
fine country. On these occasions, if any worthy per- 
sons struggling with poverty, or any objects of charity 
came under her notice, they were sure to be munifi- 
cently provided for. 

Her grace and tact were conspicuous in receiving 
and replying to congratulatory addresses from the 
authorities in the cities or towns through which she 
passed. Her self-possession never forsook her, and 
her words were treasured by her hearers, like those 
of the fairy in the fable, whose speech was jewels 
and pearls. 

Napoleon in the meantime enjoyed a military dis- 
play which was to him one of the proudest occasions 
in his career of glory. In the vicinity of Camps Bou- 
logne and Montreuil, eighty thousand men under 
Marshal Soult, were assembled upon an extended 
plain, to attend the distribution of the Legion of Honor. 
In the centre of this circular champaign, was a hill, 
from whose base the ground rose with a gentle slope, 
forming a grand natural amphitheatre for the impo- 
sing ceremony. On this elevation stood NapoleoUj 



220 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

encircled by his splendid staff, while around the daz- 
zling pageant, the magnificent host spread away in 
diverging lines, like '- so many rays" from the central 
orb. The Emperor surveyed the scene a few mo- 
ments with a glowing eye and smile of triumph, then 
rose, and from that emerald throne beneath an azure 
dome, with a loud voice uttered again the oath ad- 
ministered at the Hospital of Invalides but a short 
time before. It was followed by a burst of enthusi- 
asm that filled the very heavens with acclamations, 
until the idol of that worship, might have fancied that 
even the solemn ocean slumbering in the distance was 
waiting his command. Indeed, so it seemed soon af- 
ter to those ardent devotees of genius, when a storm 
which had suddenly arisen and threatened the de- 
struction of the flotilla lying out of harbor, just as he 
reached the coast, ceased to rage, and beneath a 
brightening sky, the vessels sailed safely into port. 
Napoleon returned to the camp, and the entire plain 
became the theatre of pastimes and rejoicing. When 
evening darkened the landscape, rockets went up in 
a constant blaze, and columns of light made an illu- 
mination which was visible from the British side of 
the strait. While the Emperor was delighted with 
these exciting demonstrations of loyalty, Josephine 
was more quietly receiving the homage of the people. 
She had reached Aix la Chapelle, and dispensing with 
all unnecessary etiquette lived in her miniature court, 
and frequented the baths. One evening she ob- 
served that her ladies were destitute of entertainment, 
and inclined to ennui. Her generous spirit immedi- 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 221 

ateiy resolved on some new adventure. She propo- 
sed a visit to a model of Paris, of which she had just 
heard, remarkable both for its resemblance to the ori- 
ginal, and its beauty. The chevalier M. d' Harville 
was about summoning the cortege with the imperial 
carriages, when Josephine insisted on walking to the 
hall of exhibition. He protested against a liberty 
which bordered on indecorum, but in vain. Scarcely 
were the group in progress, before the news spread, 
and the illuminated streets were thronged with the 
populace, so that with difficulty she pressed through 
the dense crowd, and finally arrived at her saloon fol- 
lowed by the applause of the multitude. This natu- 
ralness of character, which v\^as proof against adula- 
tion and honors, was no less admirable than rare. 

At Aixla Chapelle she was joined by her husband. 
He did not conceal the fact that he had been made 
acquainted with all the circumstances of the Empress 
and her attendants, nor his suspicions which ever 
thronged him like an army of grim spectres. Jose- 
phine's very kindnesses were turned into weapons of 
calumny by secret enemies. An aged officer unac- 
customed to court, was presented, and immediately 
seated himself upon the same sofa with the Empress. 
She was unwilling to mortify or wound the heart of 
the old soldier, and he was permitted to withdraw at 
leisure. It was reported to Bonaparte that she had 
submitted to such a familiarity on the part of General 
Lorges, the commandant at Aix la Chapelle, who 
was a young and handsome man ; this of course pre- 
pared him for a domestic storm, so far as Iris unaided 



222 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

will could create one. As usual in such afFaiis, Jose- 
phine quietly gave the facts, and left them to take 
silent effect upon him, and calm his passions. Con- 
scious innocence sustained her, although a frown 
from Napoleon, fell like the bolt and the gloom of the 
thunder-cloud upon her sensitive nature. But these 
difficulties passed, followed by a succession of bril- 
liant displays of popular feeling. The princess of the 
Rhenish Confederation crowded around the new Sov- 
ereign of France, to render their homage, and for 
hours together a cavalcade of loyal citizens would 
emulate each other in expressions of transport over 
the enthronement of their republican king. An inci- 
dent is related of their entrance into Mayence, en 
route to Paris, that brings the imperial travelers in 
strong contrast, and discloses the cruelty of Bonaparte 
to Josephine, when his pride was wounded, or his 
anger kindled. 

'^ At Coblentz Napoleon and Josephine again sepa- 
rated, the former to reach Mayence by a new road 
which he had caused to be constructed along the 
banks of the Rhine, the latter to ascend the river by 
water. The voyage should have terminated by 
eleven o'clock of the second day, but the two yachts 
which carried the Empress and her suite encountered 
a severe storm near Bingen, where they put up for 
the night, and on starting next day some confusion 
arose in the relays stationed to drag the flotilla against 
i\\Q stream. This, with Josephine's indisposition, 
caused a delay of four hours, and she arrived at May- 
ence only at three o'clock. This v/as precisely the 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 223 

hour which the Emperor had appointed for his own 
entree, and the inhabitants were thus reduced to 
choose between whom they would attend. The Em- 
press obtained ' the most sweet voices ;' and while 
the ramparts and quays overlooking the Rhine, 
crowded with an eager population, resounded with 
acclamations of ' Long live the Empress ! ' her lord 
was left to traverse empty streets, where the houses, 
shut up and deserted, sent forth not a single voice to 
say ' God bless him ! ' In this guise his carriage ar- 
rived in the court of the palace, at the same instant 
Josephine appeared at the opposite entrance, sur- 
rounded by the authorites, and accompanied seem- 
ingly by all of man, woman and child, contained in 
Mayence. This was beyond endurance — at least be- 
yond Napoleon's ; so giving one short, pettish nod, he 
turned on his heel and shut himself up in his apart- 
ment. The court was informed that the Emperor and 
Empress would dine alone. Seven, the usual hour — 
eight — nine o'clock passed, and no invitation to the 
wonder-struck courtiers to rejoin the circle in the draw- 
ing-room. At length the summons arrived ; but, on 
entering, they found nobody. A few minutes after 
they beheld Napoleon leave Josephine's apartments 
and retire to his own, favoring them with his usual 
curt salutation of ill-humor as he crossed the saloon. 
The first lady of honor then entered to Josephine. 
She was in tears, and extremely unwell. She had 
endured for hours a scene of violence and outrage, 
Bonaparte accusing her of having intentionally re- 
tarded her arrival in order to interfere with his en- 



224 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 



trance, reproaching her with a systematic design of 
captivating the suifrages of the pubUc." 

At the latter place she met the young Princess of Ba- 
den, a lady recommended by Talleyrand to Bonoparte, 
as a suitable partner of his throne when he should for 
reasons of state policy, divorce his faithful Josephine. 
Her surprise and gratification were extreme, to find 
this person, who had been represented as a model of 
beauty and grace, the perfect contrast of herself in 
both these respects ; nor was her satisfaction dimin- 
ished that Napoleon himself seemed struck with this 
contrast. Her apprehensions from this quarter were 
therefore quieted, alas, how soon to be revived in 
another, and to be but too fearfully realized ! 

A story is related of the two Princesses of Ba- 
den, which shows that however deficient they may 
have been in elegance, they were not wanting in a 
certain cleverness. Having waited on the Empress 
to accompany her to the opera, she perceived they had 
come without shawls ; and as the evening was cold, 
she good-naturedly put one of her own around each of 
them. This courtesy they acknowledged the next 
morning in a complimentary billet ; assuring her ma- 
jesty they would keep the shawls as a memorial of 
her. Of course there was nothing for it but to accede 
with a good grace as possible ; rather a difficult task, 
as the shawls were white cashmere ! "^ 

During the stay at Mayence, Josephine was again 



*A cashmere shawl, was at that time worth in France, nearly 
as much as a small estate. 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 225 

comparatively happy. There were bright mornings 
when neither miUtary nor civic duties demanded the 
attention of Napoleon ; and the family group went 
out upon the green banks of the Rhine, or a peaceful 
island sleeping on its bosom, and after breakfasting 
beneath the shade of the foliage, walked along the 
margin of the flashing waters — whose murmur with 
the music of birds, was more grateful to the Empress 
than the salute of artillery, or the acclamations of the 
excited and fickle multitude. The peasantry often 
looked with silent wonder upon a scene so novel and 
splendid. To their eye the rural banquet of that roy- 
al household, was a spectacle of bewildering magni- 
ficence, more like a glorious vision, than the com- 
mon life of mortals. Sometimes these humble spec- 
tators were objects of charity, and arrested the atten- 
tion of Bonaparte or Josephine. Observing a poor 
woman on one occasion beholding them with a sad 
interest, he sent for her, and enquired " If she had 
ever dreamed she was rich 7 " With hesitation she 
answered, " I have thought the person who possessed 
five hundred florins, (about fifty pounds,) would be 
the richest in the world." " Her dream is a little too 
dear," Napoleon remarked, '^ but it matters not — we 
must realize it." The sum was collected and paid to 
the dreamer, who gazed with amazement and rapture 
at a pile of gold which was all her ambition had in 
fancy ever grasped. Not long afterward, the Em- 
press was taking a morning walk around the island, 
when she encountered a woman in the garb of ex- 
treme poverty, sitting upon the ground, and nursing a 



228 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

babe. Josephine took the infant in her arms, and 
kindly caressing it, dropped a tear upon its cheek ; 
an expression of sympathy, but doubtless also of pain- 
ful regret that she was still unblest in her grandeur, 
with the very gift without which, she knew a fearful 
uncertainty hung over her prospective happiness. 
The innocent child looked up and smiled upon the 
loving face shaded with conflicting emotions, and 
tossed its little arms toward the musing and griev- 
ing Empress. Dropping a purse of a hundred 
francs into the mother's hand, she turned away fol- 
lowed by the blessing of a humble and grateful sub- 
ject. The evenings were passed in conversation or 
light amusement. As before stated upon the author- 
ity of Josephine, Bonaparte when pleased and inter- 
ested, conversed with great fluency and power. He 
not unfrequently introduced sculpture, music or paint- 
ing, and discussed with freedom the great masters in 
art. He was acquainted with metaphysics, and en- 
gaged in animated argument with Cambaceres, who 
had studied Kant and admired his system, upon 
ethical questions, or disputed points in mental sci- 
ence. But love was the most common topic, and we 
are assured that he could expatiate upon that theme 
with eloquence and dramatic eifect not imworthy of 
his model in this department, the celebrated Talma. 
His appreciation of female character however, as has 
been seen, was small — his early experience and sub- 
sequent observation added to his poor opinion of the 
masses, and his unbounded self-esteem, gave to wo- 
man a rank entirely below her true position when el- 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 227 

evated by culture, and ennobled by religious princi- 
ple. Reclining carelessly on a sofa, like all contem- 
plative minds, he was particularly fond of talking or 
sitting quietly at the hour of twilight ; and as dark- 
ness deepened about him, his intellect gathered 
strength, and some of his finest thoughts were uttered. 
Much has been said concerning his brief repose, and 
miraculous endurance of wakefulness and exhausting 
activity. Upon this subject, a member of the trav- 
eling party has sensibly written. " One thing I had 
formerly remarked, but more particularly during the 
present journey, namely, the mistake under which 
the world labored respecting Napoleon. The vul- 
gar belief is, that he almost never sleeps, and works 
constantly ; but I see that if he rise €arly to inspect 
his regiments, he takes good care to make up for it 
at night. Yesterday, for instance, he got on horse- 
back exactly at five for a review, but in the evening 
he retired at nine, and Josephine told us he had 
gone to bed. As to his immoderate use of coffee, 
again, in order to keep ofi" sleep— he takes one cup 
after breakfast, and another after dinner. But it is 
ever thus with the public : when an individual, 
placed in fortunate circumstances, is enabled to ac- 
complish great things, mankind instantly convert 
these into marvels, and place them to the account 
of genius." 

This journey, though attended with some slight 
mortifications, was always spoken of by Josephine, 
as one of the most delightful of her life. It seemed 
to banish from her mind for a time the sadness occa- 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 



sioned by her hopeless exertions in behalf of many of 
the victims of an alledged conspiracy ; while Napo- 
leon's kindness encouraged the transitory hope that 
her dark forebodings might never be realized. 

Napoleon was now at the summit of power in 
France, but it was his desire to go through the impo- 
sing ceremony of a public coronation. No bishop in 
the empire was, however, competent to the task ; the 
Pope of Rome, Christ's vicar upon earth, must be 
called from the Vatican to Paris, to assist in the splen- 
did pageant. The audacious summons was complied 
with ; the venerable Pius VIL, was received by the 
Emperor and his court at Fontainbleau, conducted 
with every mark of respect to the Tuilleries, and en- 
tertained there for many months, with the honors due 
to his exalted station. The Empress especially seems 
from his arrival to have felt for him the sincerest re- 
gard and veneration ; and a letter which she ad- 
dressed to him previous to her coronation, gives a 
pleasing proof of her humility and desire to be 
guided aright in the new rank to which Providence 
had raised her. 

The Empress to his holiness Pius VIL 
" Whatever experience of human change the knowl- 
edge of our rehgion may have taught, your holiness 
will view, doubtless not without astonishment, an ob- 
scure woman ready to receive from your hands the 
first among the crowns of Europe. In an event so 
far beyond the ordinary course, she recognizes and 
blesses the work of the Almighty, without daring to 
inquire into his purposes. But, holy father, I should 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE, 229 

be still ungrateful, even while I magnified the power 
of God, if I poured not out my soul into the pater- 
nal bosom of him who has been chosen to represent 
his providence — if I confided not to you my secret 
thoughts. The first and chief of these is the convic- 
tion of my own weakness and incapacity. Of myself 
I can do nothing, or, to sjpeak more correctly, the 
little I can do is derived solely from the extraordinary 
man with whom my lot is cast. This falling back 
upon myself, by which I am sometimes cast down, 
serves, upon more mature reflection, to encourage me. 
I say in my own heart, is not the arm which causes 
the earth to tremble amply sufficient to sustain me ? 
But how many are the difficulties which surround the 
station to which that arm has raised me ! I do not 
speak of the corruption which, in the midst of great- 
ness, has tainted the purest minds ; I can rely upon 
my own, so far as in this respect not to fear elevation. 
But from a height whence all other dignities must 
appear mean, how shall I distinguish real poverty ? 
Ah ! truly do I feel that, in becoming Empress of 
the French, I ought also to become to them as a 
mother : at the same time, what would it avail to 
bear them in my heart, if I proved my affection for 
them only by my intentions ? Deeds are what people 
have a right to demand from those who govern them ; 
and your holiness, who so well replies to the respect- 
ful love of your subjects by continual acts of justice 
and benevolence, more than any other sovereign, is 
qualified to instruct me by example in the efficacy of 
this doctrine. Oh, then, holv father ! may you, with 
11 



230 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

the sacred unctions poured upon my head, not only 
awaken me to the truth of those precepts which my 
heart acknowledges, but also confirm the resolution 
of applying them to practice ! " 

It cannot be denied that the Pope was under obli- 
gations to Bonaparte, for his exertions in behalf of 
the re-establishment of the Romish religion, which 
during the reign of terror, had been well nigh super- 
seded in France, by the most impious infidelity and 
atheism. The Emperor now further testified his re- 
spect for religion, by causing his marriage, which 
had only been a legal ceremony performed by a mag- 
istrate, to be consecrated by a nuptial benediction 
from Cardinal Fesch, in the private chapel of the 
Tuilleries. 

The coronation surpassed in magnificence all that 
had ever preceded it. The dress of the Empress was 
in itself elegant, and arranged with that taste in which 
she excelled all the ladies of her time — the effect 
must have been unequaled. A drapery of white 
satin, embroidered on the skirt with gold, and on the 
breast with diamonds ; a mantle of the richest crim- 
son velvet lined with ermine, and satin embroidered 
with gold ; a girdle of gold so pure as to be quite elas- 
tic, and set with large diamonds, formed her dress ; and 
on her head she wore a splendid diadem of pearls 
and diamonds, the workmanship of which had em- 
ployed the first artists of the capital. How her 
thoughts must have reverted to her first marriage, 
when as she used to relate with great simplicity, she 
carried the few trinkets given her by Beauharnais, for 



LIFE OP JOiSEPHINE. 231 

some days in her pocket to exhibit to admiring ac- 
quaintances. 

Bonaparte's dress was quite as gorgeous, and must 
have reminded him that he had indeed assumed the 
weight of empire, for the mantle alone is said to have 
weighed eighty pounds. Indeed, he was by no means 
elated with (his display of finery, but submitted to it 
as part of the system of personal aggrandizement, to 
which he adhered at whatever sacrifice of comfort. 
We can readily imagine that the hardy soldier must 
have been much less at his ease, in his white silk 
stockings, and white buskins laced and embroidered 
with gold, than when shortly afterward he appeared 
on the plain of Marengo, on the anniversary of his 
great victory there, in the identical cap and cloak 
pierced with bullet holes which he had worn in that 
battle, and there surrounded by thirty thousand of 
his troops, distributed the decorations of the Legion 
of Honor. 

The imperial carriage, paneled with mirror, and 
drawn by eight horses like the ancient regal coaches 
of the empire, attended by horsemen to the number of 
ten thousand, and double lines of infantry a mile and 
a half in length and gazed at by four hundred thou- 
sand spectators, proceeded to the church of Notre 
Dame, which had been magnificently embellished for 
the occasion. The incessant thunder of artillery 
rolled over that tumultuous sea of humanity, whose 
shouts rose in one loud acclamation. While the 
grand procession was slowly moving forward, the 
clouds which had hung darkly over the city suddenly 



LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 

parted, and the clear sunlight fell upon the gay uni- 
form, golden trappings, and burnished arms, till the 
reflection was a blended brightness that gave the fin- 
ishing halo of glory to this regal march. Arriving at 
the archiepiscopal palace, the cortege paused, while 
beneath a high archway from which floated the ban- 
ners of the Legion of Honor, the royal group entered 
the cathedral, where a throne was prepared for the 
most influential and remarkable sovereign of Europe. 
It was placed opposite the principal entrance on a 
platform, whose elevation was reached by twenty- 
two semi-circular steps richly carpeted and gleaming 
with golden bees. Here were standing the high ofli- 
cers of the realm in solemn state. The drapery of 
the throne was crimson velvet, under a canopy of 
which appeared Napoleon and Josephine, attended by 
his brothers, and the members of the imperial family. 
Four hours were consumed in the religious services 
by a choir of three hundred, and martial airs from a 
band whose number was still greater, filling the wide 
arches of that temple with a tide of harmony such as 
never before was poured over a silent throng within 
its consecrated walls. At length the Emperor arose, 
and taking the diadem of wrought gold, calmly placed 
it upon his brow. Resolved to impress the people 
from the commencement of his reign, that he ruled in 
his own right, Pius was not permitted to touch the 
bauble that made him King — his own hand alone was 
laid upon it. Then raising the crown designed for 
Josephine to his head, he passed it to her own. Jo- 
sephine, always natural, and therefore always in- 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 233 

teresting, as with folded arms she kneeled grace- 
fully before him, then rising, fixed upon him a look 
of tenderness and gratitude, while tears fell from her 
eyes. The Bible was laid upon the throne ; Napo- 
leon placed his hand upon it, and in a voice which 
was distinctly heard throughout the immense edifice, 
pronounced the customary oaths of office. A simul- 
taneous shout broke from all the vast assembly, which 
was echoed by the crowds without ; while the thun- 
ders of artillery proclaimed to more distant places that 
Bonaparte was Emperor of France. 



CHAPTER YIII. 

Fkancb and Josephinb at this period op history. — Rejoicings of thb 
People.— Important Events.— Toan. to Milan. — Napoleon visits Bki- 
ENNE. — With Josephine crosses the Alps. — Plain op Marengo. — The 
Coronation at Milan.— Sojourn there.— News op probable hostili- 
ties. — Josephine at Genoa.— The rapid travel to Paris.— Prepara- 
tions FOR War, — Josephine Regent of France.— Letter to Camba- 
ceres.— Napoleon's Victories. — Arrival of a Courier.— Marriage of 
Eugene. — Josephine's Letter upon the expected Marriage of her 
NIECE Stephanie de Beauharnais. — The Royal Family. — Domestic ar- 
rangements.— Bonaparte's HABITS AND ILLNESS.— HUNTING EXCURSIONS . 

— Hatred of Bonaparte's relatives tov^'^ards Josephine.— Her kind- 
ness IN return. — Napoleon's movements. 

There is that stirring interest in the position of 
France immediately after the restoration of monarchyj 
and also of Josephine, which belongs to the consum- 
mation of a long series of events — a point of observa- 
tion from which we can look back and mark intelli- 
gently the deep and decisive causes lying below the 
agitations that revolutionized governments, and 
changed the aspect of the world. We gaze not only 
upon the past as from an illumined height, but almost 
prophetically read the future in the same broad light. 
In the very capital where four years before the blind 
Polyphemus, of a horrid democracy, had declared 
with ghastly triumph and bacchanal shouts, "Royalty 
is abolished forever ! " the joyous salutation rang over 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 235 

assembled thoasands, and a throne of imposing grand- 
eur, " Long live the Emperor ! " Within the temple- 
courts where altar and cross were demolished, and 
'' There is no God," ^vas unblushingly uttered amid 
the vilest blasphemies, the venerable Pope reverently- 
stood, and pronounced the benediction of Heaven ; 
while the Bible was solemnly recognized as the hope 
and guardian of the nation, upon the ear of one who 
so recently was a captive trembling in sight of the 
crimson guillotine, fell the swelling acclamation, "God 
bless the Empress i " 

Through the manifold phases of revolutionary 
commotion, France had become tranquil again under 
a sceptre ; and Josephine after the strangest contrasts 
in condition — the smile of fortune and the midnight 
gloom of unutterable sorrow, was more than queen of 
a proud and prosperous kingdom. Although oppres- 
sion and famine exasparated the people of France, 
until revolution was as inevitable, as the eruption of 
a volcano when its sea of fire is lashed into billows, 
they were wholly incapable of self-government, in- 
constant in native character, unenlightened in regard 
to the basis of a true republic, and wanting well nigh 
universally the religious element of strength, they 
could do no more than trample in the dust the sym- 
bols of power, rase from its foundation the civil fabric, 
and fling the reigns of authority upon the necks of a 
lawless mob. Therefore after the wild pastime was 
over, and exhaustion succeeding the terrific convul- 
sions, created the necessity of a protector, they were 
ready to cry with the enthusiasm of men who had at 



236 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

last reached the goal of their hopes and bloody strug- 
gles, " God save the King ! " 

For weeks after the coronation, which took place 
December 2d, 1804, Paris was the centre of jubilant 
festivity. The authorities of the city at a fete given 
by them in the apartments selected for Josephine in 
the Hotel de Yille, presented her with a full toilet ser- 
vice of massive gold, and other expressions of loyalty 
and personal regard. The same evening, as if the 
popular joy vaulted to the very heavens, a magnifi- 
cent balloon, in which was a constellation of lamps, 
and around which was an iron net-v/ork forming a 
gigantic crown, was cut from its fastenings and rose 
directly above the capital, then slowly sailing south- 
ward, this imperial globe of light became a vanishing 
star, disappearing from the straining vision of the 
multitudes, whose voices made "the welkin ring." 
The shining machine traversed half of the continent, 
and crossing the Alps more rapidly than the con- 
queror had ever done, whose glory it heralded, fell af- 
ter a circuit of nine hundred miles in fifteen days, 
into Lake Bracciano, to the astonishment and alarm 
of the peasantry and fishermen, who witnessed its 
descent from the peaceful sky to the bosom of the 
waters. 

The day after the coronation, two great events in 
the annals of Europe, and consequently of the new 
dynasty, had transpired ; — the treaty concluded be- 
tween England and Sweden, and the declaration of 
war by Spain with the former pov/er. England in 
her irritation toward France, without the shadow of 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 237 

a valid reason, claimed the right of searching four 
Spanish frigates on their way from Mexico to Cadiz ; 
the demand was repulsed, and a battle was the result, 
followed by proclamation of war. In the message to 
the Legislative Assembly communicated in person at 
its opening towards the close of the year, Bonaparte 
alluded to this affair, in language that created a sen- 
sation throughout Europe : " It would have afforded 
me pleasure, on this solemn occasion, to have seen 
peace reign throughout the world ; but the political 
principles of our enemies — their recent conduct to- 
wards Spain, sufficiently show the difficulty of ful- 
filling that wish. I have no desire to aggrandize the 
territory of France, but to maintain her integrity. I 
have no ambition to exercise a greater influence over 
the rest of Europe, but I will not lose any of that 
which I have acquired. No state will be incorpora- 
ted with the empire, but I will not sacrifice my rights 
nor the ties which connect us with the states which I 
have created.' ' Napoleon therefore again contempla- 
ted soon entering the field with his hitherto invinci- 
ble army. Josephine foresaw the probability of an- 
other general warfare, and as ever, shrank with hor- 
ror she dare not express, from the prospect. Unut- 
terable sufferings and the hazard of all the hero had 
won, was the painful picture before her thought. 

Bonaparte now resolved to strengthen his reign by 
re-moulding his Cis-alpine republic into an appendage 
of the Empire, as the Kingdom of Italy. In April, 
accompanied by Josephine, he set out for Milan to 

secure the crown of Lombardy. At Fontainbleau, 
11* 



238 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

the Emperor left Josephine for Brienne^ which he 
had not visited since he left the military schoolj to 
revive early associations amid scenes made familiar 
hy the pastimes of boyhood. It had the magical ef- 
fect on his feelings every one has known who after a 
long absence from the home of childhood, has gone 
back with the memory of eventful years contrasting 
with its quiet pleasures and delightful dreams. Memes 
thus pleasantly records some of the reported incidents 
of that excursion. 

" After passing the night in the chateau de Brienne, 
he got up early in the morning to visit La Rothiere, 
formerly a holy-day haunt, and the cottage of dame 
Marguerite, a woman who lived in the forest, and at 
whose abode the collegians, in their rambles, were 
wont to be supplied with eggs, cakes, and milk. On 
such occasions each paid his share, and the good 
dame had not, it seems, forgotten, that regular pay- 
ment might be depended on when young Napoleon 
was of the party. The Emperor had enquired about 
the old woman over night, and heard, with equal sur- 
prise and pleasure, that she still lived. Galloping al- 
most alone through the alleys of the forest, he alighted 
at a little distance, and entered the cottage. ' Good 
morning, dame Marguerite ; so you have no curiosity 
to see the Emperor 7 ' ' Yes, indeed, good master, 1 am 
very anxious to see him, and here is a basketful 
of fresh eggs I am to carry to the chateau, and then 
I will try to get a sight of the Emperor ; I shall easily 
know him, for I have seen him often before now, 
when he came to taste my milk ; he was not Em- 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. '■, 239 

peror then, but o' my troth, he knew how to manage 
his comrades ; my milk, eggs, cakes, and broken 
plates, were sure to be paid for when he was present ; 
he began by paying his own score, and saw that 
every one else paid.' 'So, dame Marguerite,' re- 
plied the Emperor with a smile, ' you have not then 
forgotten Bonaparte ? ' '■ Nay, nay, my good mas- 
ter, people don't soon forget a young man of his 
stamp ; we all remember that he was cautious, se- 
rious, and sometimes even melancholy, but always 
good to the poor. I am no great witch, but could 
hdve told that he would have made his way.' ' He 
has dene pretty well, has he not ? ' asked Napoleon, 
laughing. ' O' my troth, master, that he has,' said 
the old woman, to whom Napoleon, during this short 
dialogue, had approached quite close, but keeping his 
back to the door, and consequently to the principal 
light. Turning now suddenly round, the light 
streamed full upon his countenance — the good dame 
started, blessed herself, and seemed striving to col- 
lect her reminiscences of the past. To help her 
memory, Napoleon rubbing his hands, and assuming 
the tones and manners of his youth, called out, ' So, 
ho ! dame Marguerite, some milk and fresh eggs ; 
we are all dying of hunger.' The old woman not 
quite assured began to examine the emperor very 
attentively. ' Ah, dame Marguerite,' said the latter, 
' time has changed us both ; and you perceive it 
would not have been so easy as you just now thought 
to recognize the Emperor ; but you find we are old 
acquaintances.' The poor creature dropped upon 



240 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

her knees — Napoleon raised her with an expression 
of the utmost kindness, saying, ' Of a truth, my good 
mother, I am as hungry as a student — have you 
nothing to give me? ' Eggs and milk were got ready, 
Napoleon helping himself, for joy had almost put the 
old woman beside herself Having thus made a 
hearty repast, the Emperor rose to depart, and giv- 
ing his ancient hostess a purse of gold, said, ' You 
know, dame Marguerite, I like everybody to pay 
their score. Adieu, I will not forget you.' " 

Rejoining the Empress, they resumed their tour to 
Lyons, and shared the sumptuous hospitality of Cardi- 
nal Fesch. It was decided to cross the Alps by Mont 
Cenis, and for the adventure two elegant sedans were 
forwarded from Turin. There was no grand high- 
way as soon afterward, bridging the chasms, and the 
traveler, like the wild goat, had often to climb the per- 
ilous steep in a path untrodden before. Josephine 
avoided the beautiful conveyance ordered expressly 
for her, and preferred whenever possible to advance 
by her elastic step, to walk beside Napoleon, breathe 
the bracing air and behold with kindling eye the sea 
of glittering summits, the gorges and their foaming tor- 
rents, and the ice-fields stretching away in cold and 
majestic desolation. That passage was a novel and 
sublime spectacle. The sovereign of an Empire with 
his charming queen toiling up the heights over which 
he had led conquering armies — his thoughts busy 
with those mighty scenes, — hers wandering over the 
waste of wonders, and above them through eternity^ 
of which the solemn peaks seemed silent yet eloquent 
witnesses. 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 241 

From Turin the tourist's next place of rendezvous 
was Alessandria near the plain of Marengo ; and he 
could not resist the inducement to stand once more 
upon that field which had rocked to one of the world's 
decisive battles, and sent his name like a spell- word 
around the globe. He ordered from Paris the old 
uniform and hat which he had worn on the day of 
conflict amid the smoke of the terrible struggle, and 
then, while in fancy he saw again the m^eeting bat- 
talions as when he wrung from the out-numbering foe 
victories that astonished the heroes of every realm, he 
reviewed with imperial dignity the national troops in 
Italy. Reaching Milan, the ancient crown was 
brought from seclusion, and the dust in which it had 
been entombed removed from the neglected symbol of 
ro5^alty. In the grand Cathedral of the city, the sec- 
ond in magnificence to St. Peter's, another coronation 
was had. Napoleon receiving the crown from the 
archbishop's hand, and placing it as before upon his 
own head. 

He repeated during the ceremony in Italian, these 
words — " God has given it — wo to the gainsayer ; " 
raising the iron circlet also to the brow of Josephine. 
The assemblage of nobility and beauty dispersed ; 
Napoleon calmly received their display of loyalty, 
and the gay Milanese, again with wonted hilarity 
thronged the market place, and busy streets of the 
capital. Next came the public formalities of appoint- 
ing Eugene, Viceroy of the new Kingdom. The occa- 
sion was brilliant and imposing — especially gratifying 
to his noble mother, who was a deeply interested spec- 



242 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

tator of the scene. So the succeeding weeks hke 
those after the festivities at Paris, were crowded with 
demonstrations of gladness, that made the whole 
period one gala-day of rejoicing and social dissipation. 

There is a charming little island in the Olona, to 
which the royal pair often resorted to escape the ex- 
citement of these unceasing pleasures, and while the 
confused murmur of the distant city died away in the 
tranquility of nature, would sit down to a morning re- 
past, and then stroll over the green esplanade, whose 
border was laved by the mirror-tide. In one of these 
promonades they encountered a poor woman who had 
just left her miserable cabin, and gazed with surprise 
upon the strangers. Bonaparte paused, and kindly 
addressed her : 

" ' How do you live, my good woman? are you mar- 
ried ? how many children have you ? ' ' Sir, I am 
very poor, and have three children, whom we have 
difficulty in bringing up, for my husband, who is a 
day-laborer, has not always work.' ' Well, how 
much would make you perfectly happy 1 ' asked Na- 
poleon. 'Ah ! sir, a great deal of money.' 'Well, but 
once more, how much would you wish ? ' ' Oh, sir, 
at least twenty louis, (about 161.) but what prospect 
is there of our having twenty louis ? ' The Emperor 
ordered 3000 francs (125/.) in gold to be given her. 
The rouleaus being opened, and the contents poured 
into her lap, at the sight of such a quantity of gold, 
the poor woman nearly fainted away. 'Ah ! sir,' said 
she, ' ah ! madam, it is a great deal too much — and 
yet you do not look as if you could sport with the 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 243 

feelings of a miserable woman.' Josephine reassured 
her, saying, in the gentlest accents, ' You can now 
rent a piece of ground, purchase a flock of goats, and 
I hope, he will be able to bring up your children 
comfortably.' " 

At Milan the first intimations of threatening dissat- 
isfaction on the part of Austria and Russia, reached 
the Emperor. Although he continued his tour through 
the peninsula, so rich in picturesque scenery, and his- 
toric recollections — in every thing that awakens 
thought and kindles the imagination ; his mind was 
occupied with coming events, whose foreshadowing 
he beheld in the blackening horizon of the north. 
Arriving at Genoa, the tidings of a coalition were con- 
firmed, based in part at least it was apparent, upon 
the coronation in Milan. To Josephine the brief stay 
in the " City of palaces," was more attractive than 
any transient residence during their travel had been. 
"The citizens were polite and attentive — the air de- 
lightful as the sea-breeze of her native island — and 
the charming bay made more beautiful by floating 
gardens of orange-trees and flowers, constructed ex- 
pressly for her amusement. It was a pause in their 
hurried progress, which refreshed her languid frame, 
and soothed like a lovely vision her weary heart. 
The departure was impetuous, for the eagle eye of 
Napoleon was on the tokens of a hastening tempest, 
and he caught in fancy the thunders of its terrible 
shock. The imperial carriage glided like a spirit 
along the highway, and the lash fell with increasing 
rapidity upon the foaming steeds. When for a mo- 



244 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

ment there was a halt to change the horses, water 
was dashed on the smokmg axle, and again the 
wheels revolved, till they seemed self-moving, while 
their low hum only broke the silence, except the oc- 
casional shout of Napoleon, " On ! On ! we do not 
move ! " 

Reaching Paris, he remained a few days, and then 
passed on with the same lightning speed to Boulogne, 
to rally his forces for the Rhenish boundary, and the 
campaign of Austerlitz. He issued orders to the com- 
manders of the Army of Invasion, to be ready upon 
the first hostile movement by Austria, to advance 
against her. His vast arrangements went forward 
with usual precision and haste — the army went wild 
with enthusiasm in view of the campaign ; and the 
marvelous activity of their leader made him their 
wonder and their idol. Tioenty thousand carriages 
conveyed the battalions as if by a magical flight, from 
Boulogne to the beautiful Rhine, upon whose green 
banks a hecatomb of youthful soldiers, who had im- 
patiently waited for the conflict, were trodden in gore 
beneath the iron-hoof. Napoleon returned to Paris to 
complete his preparation for taking command of the 
French Army. On the 24th of September, 1805, he 
left the capital with Josephine, who attending him 
to Strasburg, was there compelled to part from him, 
and hasten to the Palace, to enter upon her duties as 
regent of the empire in Bonaparte's absence. Cam- 
baceres, archchancellor was selected to be her adviser 
and aid, to whom she addressed a letter which dis- 
closes her intense solicitude, her clear judgment, and 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 245 

sterling sense, that in connection with her extreme 
tenderness and unaffected modesty, form a character 
we admire with new devotion at every view, Uke the 
artist's affection for a faultless form some master has 
chiseled. 

Josephine to Cambaceres. 

" Sir, — To-morrow, as you know, in absence of 
the Emperor, I am to give audience to the Senate 
and the different authorities. In a conjuncture of 
such moment, two things are needful — to inform 
you of my intentions, and to receive your advice. 
In this my necessity, to whom can I more properly 
apply than to the distinguished personage who pos- 
sesses the Emperor's entire confidence, and whom 
France regards, with reason, as his worthy repre- 
sentative ! 

" The various addresses have been communicated 
to me, and I send you an outline of the terms in 
which, I conceive, I ought to reply. 

"I remind the Senate, that as fathers of their 
country, and conservators of her institutions, to them 
b3longs the sole duty of maintaining a balance be- 
tween the different powers of the state, not permit- 
ting themselves to encroach upon any one. To the 
legislative body, I say that their functions are to 
judge and to pass laws, particularly those relating 
to taxation, without meddling in the march of gov- 
ernment, which such interference would impede. 
I call to the remembrance of the council of state, 
that for them has been reserved the important duty 
of preparing, by previous discussion, good internal 



248 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

laws, and a durable legislation. To the minis- 
ters I state, that they form neither a corporation 
nor even a legislative commission — neither the ad- 
ministration nor the government ; but that, under 
the title of superior agents of the government, and 
first commissioners of its chief, they execute, and 
cause to be executed, orders which are the imme- 
diate consequences of legislative determinations. 
To the clergy I explain, that they form a portion of 
the state, while the state never is, and never can 
be, transferred to them ; that their sole and exclu- 
sive province is the conscience, upon which they are 
to act so as to form citizens to the country, soldiers 
for the territory, subjects for the sovereign, and 
virtuous fathers of families. To the magistracy I 
say, that applying without interpreting the laws, in 
unity of views, and identity of jurisprudence, they 
are to seize with sagacity the spirit of the law, recon- 
ciling the happiness of the governed with the respect 
due to governors. To the savans I acknowledge, 
that the gentle empire of the arts, of science, and 
literature tempers whatever might be too austere in 
arms, which yet, in a season of transition and trial, 
are indispensable. The manufacturers and mer- 
chants are reminded, that they should have but two 
thoughts, which at bottom are one and the same, 
the prosperity of our own productions, and the ruin 
of those of England. Finally, to the agriculturalists 
it is stated, that the treasures of France are buried 
in the soil, and that by the ploughshare and the 
spade they are thence to be extracted. To the 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 247 

heroes of either service I have nothing to say — this 
palace is filled with their exploits ; and from under a 
canopy of standards, conquered by their valor, and 
consecrated b}^ their blood, do I speak. 

" Let me know speedily, and with perfect frank- 
ness whether I am worthy thus to address the august 
assembly of my hearers." 

Scarcely had Josephine thus shown herself equal 
to her responsible station, before Napoleon v/as in the 
midst of battle. On the 7th of October, he had crossed 
the Danube in face of the enemy, and turned the 
living tide of men from his triumphal path — on the 
8th, Murat fought the fierce battle of Wertingen, ta- 
king two thousand Austrian prisoners ; on the 9th, the 
defeated army retreated from Gunzgburg, pursued by 
the victorious French to the gates of Augsburg which 
they entered, and proceeding to Munich, it was also in 
their possession on the 12th. On the 14th, occurred 
the battle of Memingem, when six thousand Austrians 
surrendered to Marshal Soult, and Ney wrung with 
unrivaled valor, Elchingen from the hand of the ene- 
my ; and on the 17th, the grand consummation in 
the capitulation of Ulm, crowned the ten days' work 
with glory, the world had never known hitherto in 
the annals of conquest. 

This was followed by the splendid victory of Aus- 
terlitz, on the anniversary of the coronation, which 
decided the struggle, opening to the French the gates 
of the Austrian capital. As we gave the summary 
of Napoleon's first campaign, inscribed on the flag he 
sent to the Directory, we add the eloquent and artful 



248 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

address he made to the army after they had van- 
quished the enemy, containing an outhne of what 
he had accomphshed. 

"Soldiers of the Grand Army, — In fifteen 
days we have finished our campaign. What we 
proposed to do has been done. We have chased the 
Austrian troops from Bavaria, and restored our ally 
to the sovereignty of his dominions. 

" That army, which with so much presumption 
and imprudence marched upon our frontiers, is anni- 
hilated. 

"But what does this signify to England? She 
has gained her object. We are no longer at Bou- 
logne, and her subsidies will not be the less great. 

" Of a hundred thousand men who composed that 
army, sixty thousand are prisoners ; but they will 
supply our conscripts in the labor of husbandry. 

" Two hundred pieces of cannon, ninety flags, and 
all their generals, are in our power. Not more 
than fifteen thousand men have escaped. 

" Soldiers ! 1 announce to you a great battle ; but 
thanks to the ill-divised combinations of the ene- 
my, 1 was able to secure the desired result with- 
out any danger ; and, what is unexampled in the 
history of nations, these results have been gained 
at the loss of scarcely fifteen hundred men, killed 
and wounded. 

" Soldiers ! this success is due to your entire confi- 
dence in your Emperor, to your patience in support- 
ing fatigue and privations of every kind, and to your 
remarkable intrepidity. 



LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 249 

^' But we will not stop here. You are impatient to 
commence a second campaign. 

'• The Russian army, which the gold of England 
has brought from the extremity of the world, we have 
to serve in the same manner. 

" In the conflict in which we are now to be engaged, 
the honor of the French infantry is especially con- 
cerned. We shall then see decided, for the second 
time, that question which has already been deci- 
ded in Switzerland and Holland ; namely, whether 
the French infantry is the first or second in Europe ? 

" There are no generals amongst them, in contend- 
ing against whom I can acquire any glory. All I 
wish is to obtain the victory with the least possible 
bloodshed. My soldiers are my children." 

In the mean time all was suspense at St. Cloud. 
December was vanishing and no news reached the 
Empress from the army, till looks only betrayed the 
increasing alarm none ventured longer to breathe in 
words of fear. One evening Josephine was sitting 
in the saloon with the circle who usually gathered 
there, putting on a witching mockery of her wonted 
smile, while in every heart sad forebodings made each 
endeavor to awaken mirth, a fruitless struggle. Still- 
ness stole upon that brilliant circle, and a gloomy 
anticipation of disastrous tidings absorbed all other 
feeling. Suddenly there arose wild shouts of glad- 
ness, and a gallant Mameluke dashed into the court, 
his panting steed falling in death beneath the brave 
rider. The sound of bells and the loud crack of the 
whip had reached the ear of Josephine. She flew to 



'250 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 

the window to hail the courier from the Danube— 
" Victory ! Austerlitz ! " passed from hp to lip beneath 
the casement, while tears were her response of joy that 
could find no other language. 

She immediately descended to the vestibule at- 
tended by her ladies, and received from the hand of 
the Mameluke who came from the field of victory, a 
distance of one hundred and fifty miles, in twelve 
hours, a note written by Napoleon at the moment his 
valiant army won the terrific day, and the triumphant 
shout was heard along the advancing lines. In the 
light of flambeaux borne by the attendants, she read 
the brief message with that tide of emotion which 
rushes over the spirit when transport succeeds des- 
pair ; then taking from her finger a diamond ring of 
great value, gave it to the chivalrous courier. The 
news spread — the people were frantic with enthu- 
siasm, and ready in their loyalty to deify the con- 
queror, as in their atheistical phrenzy they once did 
reason. To Josephine the results were grateful as a 
loving mother. Eugene was in consequence of these 
triumphs to marry the Princess of Bavaria— the first 
royal alliance in the family of the Emperor. Jose- 
phine was informed that the nuptials would occur in 
Munich in January, (1806,) and her presence was re- 
quired. She made haste to join those dearer to her 
than laurels of glory, and behold the bride of the 
Viceroy of Italy. It was purely a political marriage, 
and as such young Beauharnais recoiled from the pa- 
ternal decree. But he found in the princess Augusta, 
all he could desire or love, and their mutual devotion 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 251 

became deep and enduring ; a source of pleasure to 
Josephine, through a Mfe of singular and changeful 
interest. The maternal character of this remarkable 
woman is most attractive, and always above reproach. 
Without the discipline of moral cultivation in its high- 
est form — surrounded by society hollow in principle 
and deceptive in action — flattered and honored, she 
was still an affectionate, judicious and faithful mother. 
Her children were indeed " her crown," and she was 
happy in their prosperity, when every other joy was 
crushed. 

Napoleon returned from Germany, and in his train 
followed a swarm of German Princes to the court of 
France. Fetes and parties were the order of the da}^ ; 
the slain were forgotten excepting in homes left des- 
olate, and the name of Napoleon was the theme of 
eulogy in the market and mansion — ^by the noble who 
anticipated honor, and the peasant who toiled only 
for his bread. Among the royal guests was the Prince 
of Baden, the intended husband of Stephanie de 
Beauharnais, who had been made Princess but re- 
cently, and was a niece of Josephine. A communi- 
cation addressed to an old friend, in reference to the 
affair, illustrates the pure and elevated sentiments 
that were cherished in all the relations of life : 

Josephine to the Comtesse Girardin. 
'' My dear Friend : I send you a set of jewels, 
which will serve to prove that I do not cease to think 
of you. The moment Foncier (jeweler to the Empress) 
brought them, the charming appearance they would 
have on your beautiful neck occurred to me, and I 



252 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

eagerly made the purchase. Accept, then, this pledge 
of an attachment which you cannot doubt, on recall- 
ing your own affection for me when I was utterly 
destitute, but of which, from that very circumstance, 
it will be pleasing to receive a new remembrance. 

" 1 am truly satisfied with the rank which I occupy 
only when it procures me the pleasure of obtaining 
some favor for my friends of old. Your situation, 
fortunately, deprives me of the happines of being able 
to serve you, since all your wishes are fulfilled. I 
cannot console myself for my want of power to be ser- 
viceable, save by often seeking occasions of being at 
least agreeable. These my heart will instruct me 
how to divine, 

" My charming Stephanie, now adopted by the Em- 
peror, is very soon to espouse a German prince. His 
name must be still a mystery : so soon as I have per- 
mission to communicate it, you shall be the first to 
learn the secret. You know my tenderness for my 
niece, and can therefore conceive the happiness which 
I experience in venturing to anticipate hers. Her 
character, little disposed to ambition, makes her re- 
gard this match with a degree of pain, because it re- 
moves her from me and her family ; yet a while and 
she will forget everything in the truest of all the joys 
of this world, that of seeing the happiness of others 
depending upon her. You will remember, my dear, 
we found means of tasting such enjoyment even in 
prison, by sharing with the wretched captives what 
we received from our friends ! There wants, indeed, 
only the will to oblige ; the means are always in our 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 253 

power ; and Stephanie especially is worthy of often 
meeting with the opportunity, 

'' Meantime we are very busy with all those futili- 
ties necessary to an intended. 1 am delighted with 
every thing the emperor does for my favorite. She 
is, I knov/, less overjoyed than I, from the causes 
already mentioned, and finds only one consolation, 
in being able, on quitting France, to take with her 
some early friends, a privilege which is to be granted. 
If, then, your protegee desires an agreeable situa- 
tion, I believe I can procure one near Stephanie's per- 
son, which will be preferable to one in my service. 

" I must leave you, dear friend, for Forcier, There 
are duties to which we must sacrifice even friendship. 
You will therefore pardon my breaking off abruptly 
for a purpose of this importance- For your sake I 
have vanquished my sloth, not wishing to employ 
the pen of my good Deschamps (private secretary.) 
Between friends such as we two, a third party is to 
me always a restraint. Are you not of the same 
opinion ? Adieu, my friend. Empress or in prison, be 
a^ssured no one loves you as does Josephine." 

While these festive scenes were passing, and the 
Parisians holding jubilee. Napoleon was not idle — un- 
like Hannibal, he never paused for voluptuous ease 
upon a height of glory, nor for an instant relaxed his 
vigilance and untiring activity. Having created 
Kingdoms and appointed Kings, over the wide region 
of conquest, he determined to environ his throne v/ith 
a new line of Princes, and bestow principalities upon 

the members of his own household, Mrirat became 
12 



254 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

Grand Duke of Cleves and Berg — Cambaceres Duke 
of Parma — his sister Pauline, who had married Prince 
Borghese, was created Duchess of Guastalla ; Louis 
and Hortense held the throne of Holland. Josephine 
rejoiced with trembling at this rapid approximation 
towards the fruition of her most radiant hopes — the 
fulfillment of dreams more gorgeous than ever haun- 
ted the brain of the Abynsinian Prince in his garden 
of manifold delights. In her society, gathering about 
him and concentrating all the elements of permanent 
power, and carrying on negotiations for peace with 
surrounding powers, Napoleon occupied the spring 
and summer of 1 806. Prussia was resolved on war, 
and the ultimatum of her Cabinet, amounting to a 
haughty challenge, was applying the torch to the mag- 
azine of restless Europe. Bonaparte was enraged, and 
in September was again on the banks of the Rhine. 
The following month France and Prussia were in the 
field, and on the 14th were fought the great battles 
of Austerdadt and Jena. These were followed by a 
series of victories scarcely less marvelous and splen- 
did than those of a preceding year, till over annihi- 
lated armies of the world^s noblest soldiers. Napoleon 
marched like the very angel of death to the foe. It 
was during this campaign that he performed the gen- 
erous deed of pardoning Prince Hatzfield, whose in- 
tercepted letters from Berlin proved him to be a spy ; 
an act that touched deeply the heart of Josephine, 
and endeared the man she loved with an idolatry 
death alone could destroy. The court-martial had 
assembled to try the Prince, and evidently the for- 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE, 255 

malities of examination, sentence and execution would 
succeed each other without hesitation. Through the 
influence of Duroc at this juncture. Madam Hatzfield 
was introduced into the apartment of the Emperor. 
The interview is given in Napoleon's own language 
quoted from a letter to the Empress, in which she 
alludes to something he had written unfavorable to 
her sex. 

" I have received your letter, in which it seems you 
reproach me for speaking ill of woman. True it is 
that, above all things, I dislike female intriguers. I 
have been used to kind, gentle and conciliatory wo- 
men. Them I love, and if they have spoiled me, it is 
not my fault, but yours. However, you will see that 
I have acted indulgently towards one sensible and 
deserving woman. I allude to Madam Hatzfield. 
When I showed her her husband's letter, she burst 
into tears, and in a tone of the most exquisite grief 
and candor, exclaimed, ' It is indeed his writing ! ' 
This was too much, it went to my heart, and I said, 
^ Well, Madam, throw the letter into the fire, and then 
I shall have no proof against your husband.' She 
burned the letter and was restored to happiness. Her 
husband is now safe ; two hours later, and he Avould 
have been lost. You see, therefore, that I like women 
who are feminine, simple and amiable, for they alone 
resemble you. November 6th, 1806, 9 o'clock, p. m." 

A glimpse of the interior of St. Cloud while these 
3^ears of alternate conflict and peace were vanishing, 
and Josephine living amid the enthusiastic homage 
of the nation, unstained and undazzled by greatness, 



256 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 

will possess an interest different in kind, from the 
general surface-view, but pleasing, because it affords 
a closer observation of character, which is the only 
test of one's real condition. The Emperor as men- 
tioned before, had separate apartments in the palace, 
occasionally passing the night with Josephine, when 
much of the time was spent in conversation. The 
order given his attendant was, to enter the apartment 
at seven o'clock in the morning ; of which service, 
the faithful Constant has made his own simple re- 
port : — 

" The Emperor commonly asked for tea or an infu- 
sion of orange flowers, and rose immediately after. 
The Empress would say with a smile, ' Will you rise 
so soon? — Remain a little longer.' 'Well, if I do, 
you will not sleep, will you? ' was his majesty's usual 
reply; then he would roll her up in the coverlet, 
laughing, and tickling her on the cheeks and neck. 
In the course of a few minutes the Empress rose also, 
and putting on a loose rohe du matin, either read the 
journal while the Emperor dressed, or retired by a pri- 
vate access to her own apartments, but never without 
addressing some kind and condescending words to 
myself" 

Josephine's hour of rising was nine o'clock, and af- 
ter devoting an hour to the toilet, entered the recep- 
tion-room of petitioners for her interposition, or the 
royal favor. With all the annoyances attending this 
ceremony, it was to her second to none in interest ; 
for her sympathies must have an object, or she was 
unhappy. If she erred in judgment, when bestowing 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 257 

influence or money upon those who presented their 
claims, it was the mistake of a feeling, generous 
spirit— surrounded by intriguing courtiers, and often 
wholly dependent upon the applicant's honesty for a 
truthful narrative, she may have scattered too lav- 
ishingly her wealth, and aided a villain now and 
then, but she had the secret consciousness of oftener 
doing good to the unfortunate, and won admiration 
by a fault of which only a magnanimous mind could 
have been guilty. Among the various notes addressed 
to men of rank in behalf of others, a laconic and ex- 
pressive one in reference to a worthy youth, sent to 
Fouche, is quoted : — 

" My Lord Duke, — I will that the young Dutetre 
be placed in some way or other, while I am Empress ; 
you would very speedily forget him should I cease to 
reign. I salute you." 

Josephine was eminently a philanthropist — never 
forgetting the common nature and wants of our race ; 
the insignificance of distinctions wholly factitious, 
which she had learned might rise or disappear at 
the touch of fortune ; nor was she unmindful of the 
leveling stroke of death that hurries all to a tribunal 
of final adjudication. 

After these morning duties were discharged, came 
the hour of breakfast, which was eleven o'clock. Na- 
poleon ate with haste, as though time at the table 
was so much wasted — and eating a necessary evil. 
He seldom gave more than seven or eight minutes to 
a meal, sipping for the finale a cup of coffee. He 
frequently ate alone, especially when urgent business 



258 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 

demanded protracted attention. In his absence, Jose- 
phine had a social repast Hke those enjoyed during 
the Consulate. With the ladies of the Court, she 
would sit down with her beaming face and musical 
voice, and make the occasion a cheerful interlude to 
the stately routine of business, and more exciting 
pleasures. After a little recreation, or a walk, she re- 
tired to her own apartments, and till late in the after- 
noon, was engaged with her circle, conversing famil- 
iarly, or reading, except when devoted to her favorite 
work, embroidery, in which she excelled ; leaving in 
the palaces she occupied upon their costly furniture 
her handy work, for the admiration and reproof of 
those women of rank, who curl the lip with affected 
dignity and contempt at the vulgar necessity of labor. 
Josephine was every where a model — the same sym- 
metrical character in prison or in the temple of corona- 
tion — strolling carelessly upon the lawn of Malmai- 
son, or through the saloons of St. Cloud — listening to 
the acclamations of the million, or to a story of afflic- 
tion in a peasant's hovel. 

Her industry and her gentleness are developed at- 
tractively in a common note of direction to her Feni- 
7ne-de-cha7iihre. 

"My dear Miss Aubert, — I beg you will call in 
at Bennais's in returning, and inquire whether the 
frames which I ordered of him are ready ; my ladies 
remain with folded arms, and I myself have nothing 
at all to do. At the same time, take in your way the 
Pere de Fafnille, and purchase on my account, a 
complete assortment of worstedsj with some dozens 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE, 259 

of English needles. Here is a lot of commissions 
for you all at once ; not to forget them, think of me. 
I am quite sure you will acquit yourself well, and re- 
turn quickly." 

Josephine's intellectual cultivation and literary 
taste were, as already intimated, of a high order. 
Though her imagination was strong and soaring, 
which, with an exceedingly sensitive temperament, 
made her liable to the sentimentality and dreaming 
that form the romantic character ; she perused works 
of the most practical kind, and became familiar with 
the imperishable records of genius in every depart- 
ment of reading. Her private court was indeed a lite- 
rary association — the members alternately appointed 
to read aloud, pausing occasionaly for comment or 
discussion upon interesting or difficult passages of the 
author. But a few of the poisonous ephemera, novels, 
were allowed in the royal library, and only those of 
moral tone and purest style. Napoleon himself was 
sternly opposed to the worthless and exciting fiction, 
which has of late increased so rapidly in all countries. 
If he chanced in his walk through the palace to find 
a book of this sort in the hands of an attendant or ly- 
ing on a table, he consigned it without mercy to the 
flames, and gave the offender a lecture upon his prodi- 
gality of time, and vicious indulgence. When he 
was in good spirits, he would often interrupt the en- 
tertainment of the fair group in their morning sociable, 
by joining the party, and with pleasant railery and 
flashes of wit, enhance their pleasures ; especially 
that of Josephine, who was always delighted when 



260 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 

by the side of Napoleon. And when he desired her 
presence in the cabinet on any private affair, a gentle 
tap at her door was the signal, which introduced her 
joyfully to his room. Sometimes an interview pro- 
tracted in the evening, till the " noon of night,^' and 
on her return she would find a silent company of 
•' sleeping beauties." 

She rode out in the afternoon usually unaccompa- 
nied by the Emperor, stopping whenever an appeal to 
benevolence met her eye, and never permitting the 
meanest animal to suffer if her interposition could 
prevent it. Her taste in matters of dress was refined, 
and generally pleasing to Bonaparte. It was his 
custom, when making her evening toilet to be present 
botli to while away a leisure hour and act as umpire 
in regard to the apparel most becoming. In his char- 
acteristic impulsiveness and impatience, he would 
scatter the contents of boxes, throw into confusion 
the entire wardrobe, and handle jewelry as if they 
v/ere pebbles, until the women were monuments of 
amazement, and Josephine archly smiling on the 
wreck of robes, ribbons and diamonds. He never 
failed to exhibit his displeasure when she appeared 
in a dress he happened not to fancy ; and on one oc- 
casion it is said, when she entered his cabinet in a 
robe of of blue and silver tissue, he threw an inkstand 
upon the beautiful costume, and the Empress retired 
to cast aside the ruined attire, for another trial 
to suit her lord's capricious taste. In trifles like this 
Josephine's tranquility was scarcely ruffled, but when 
her fidelity was doubted, or her love unreturned, she 



LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 261 

drooped like a smitten flower, and her bosom was 
torn with a tempest of sorrow. The description of 
the formaUties at dinner, and Bonaparte's habits and 
iUness is added from the pen of another. 

" At six o'clock dinner was served ; but, unless on 
very particular occasions, Napoleon forgot, and delay- 
ed it indefinitely. Hence, in the annals of the impe- 
rial table, dinners at nine, and even at ten o'clock, 
are not unfrequent. Their majesties always dined 
together — alone, or with a few invited guests, mem- 
bers of the imperial family or of the ministry. Invi- 
tations were delivered by the grand master of the 
ceremonies, who informed the grand marshal of the 
necessary arrrangements, and in what manner the 
guests should sit ; the grand marshal, again, received 
his orders directly from the Sovereign. When their 
majesties dined en grand convert^ their tables were 
placed under a canopy on a platform, elevated one step, 
and with two arm-chairs, one on the right for the Em- 
peror, the other on the left for Josephine, the former 
wearing a hat with plumes, and his consort a dia- 
dem. Their majesties were informed by the grand 
marshal when the preparations were completed, and 
entered the room in the following order : — Pages, as- 
sistant master of the ceremonies, prefects of the palace, 
first prefect and a master of the ceremonies, the grand 
marshal and grand master of the ceremonies ; the 
Empress, attended by her first equery and first cham- 
berlain ; the Emperor, colonel-general of the guard, 
grand chamberlain and grand equery ; the grand almo- 
ner, who blessed the meat, and retired, leaving their ma- 
12* 



262 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

jesties to a solitary board, unless when guests of kingly 
rank were present, or humbler ones sat down there by 
invitation. The pages performed the most subordi- 
nate, and the stewards the menial part of the service at 
the imperial table ; but the immediate wants of their 
majesties were ministered to by the grand marshal 
(Duroc, Duke de Friuli,) first chamberlain (Comte de 
Beaumont,) the fir&t equery (Comte de Harville,) and 
the chamberlains (all noblemen) in turn. The other 
tables were served by the stewards and attendants in 
livery. But when the repast was in private, it took 
place in a small interior dining-room, without any 
etiquette, generally some of the members of the court, 
and especially the grand marshal, sitting down with 
their majesties. On these occasions, much more fre- 
quent than the dinners of ceremony, favorite attend- 
ants, named by Napoleon, waited at table. 

" Napoleon always ate hastily, rarely remaining 
above ten minutes at table : so that those who knew him 
well took care to be prepared before hand. The Viceroy 
claims the merit of this invention. ' Nay, Eugene, 
you have not had time to dine,' said Napoleon, seeing 
him rise from table with himself. * Pardon me,' re- 
plied the prince, ' I dined in advance.' ' A prudent 
foresight,' said the Emperor, laughing. On Napoleon 
rising in this hurried manner, Josephine made a sign 
to those who dined with them to remain, but followed 
herself into a small saloon. Here a page brought the 
ingredients in utensils of silver gilt, upon a gold 
tray ; and the Empress poured out and sugared a 
small cup of coiFee, tasted, by sipping a few drops, 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE, 263 

then presented it to the Emperor. These precautions 
she took because at first, in his moments of absence, 
he sometimes drank it cold, or without or with too 
much sugar, and sometimes two cups in succession ; 
any of which n^regularities made him ill, and hence, 
probably, the stories of his immoderate use of this bev- 
erage. This custom of eating so precipitately both in- 
duced slovenly habits and frequently caused sickness. 
Napoleon not only dispensed with the use of his knife 
and fork as respected his own plate, but also helped 
himself with his fingers from the dishes nearest him, 
and dipped his bread in the sauce. In the attacks of 
indigestion, which were often very severe, and attended 
with vomiting, nothing could exceed the anxious ten- 
derness of Josephine ; for Napoleon supported the 
sickness with scarcely a degree of composure. 

" On the first symtoms of the malady, he flung him- 
self at full length on the carpet of his bedroom, and 
Josephine was instantly by his side. She rested his 
head on her knees, stroking his temples, and applying 
frictions of eau de Cologne to his breast, consoling 
and encouraging him in the best way she could. A 
few cups of tea seldom failed to remove the acute 
pain ; but he remained for a length of time feeble and 
exhausted, when Josephine, in her most touching ac- 
cents, would say, ' Now you are better, will you lie 
down a little ? I will remain with Constant by your 
"bedside.' These attacks and the manner of treatment 
have probably given rise to the idea that Napoleon 
was subject to epileptic fits. One of the longest and 
most severe indispositions of this kind occurred during 



264 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

the excursion to Mayence, and in the night. Jose- 
phine, in perfect darkness, for the chamber light had 
been extingnished, and not wishing to awake any one, 
assured that nobody but herself v/ould be tolerated in 
the apartment, threw some part of her dress about her, 
and groped her way to the chamber of the aid-de- 
camp on duty, from whom, astonished as he felt at 
such a visit, she obtained a light, and continued alone 
to watch over and apply remedies to her husband. 
Kext day both appeared languid and fatigued. How 
selfish and ungrateful a being must Napoleon have 
been, when on the very same excursion, he, with his 
own hand, almost dragged Josephine from bed to 
attend a ball, while suffering under one of those ner- 
vous headaches which freo^uently caused her absolute 
torture. The fii'st lady of honor. Madam de Roche- 
foucauld, witnessed this barbarity, which she men- 
tioned with tears. Josephine appeared at the ball and 
reception with her usual kindness and grace, re- 
mained the requisite time, but almost fainted on retmn- 
ing to her apartments, yet without uttering a single 
murmur of complaint." 

The sadness of this last picture is relieved by 
another drawn from life at St. Cloud. When intervals 
of repose from the cares of the empire occurred, Napo- 
leon accompanied by Josephine made short excur- 
sions into the country ; visiting Rambouillet and Fon- 
tainbleau, favorite places of resort to him, and memo- 
rable for many events of interest in his remarkable 
history. These rides into the beautiful region adja- 
cent to the palace, were crowded with enjoyment to 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 265 

the heart of the Empress, who from the days of girl- 
ish glee on the green slopes of Martinique, had loved 
the sublimity, the music and freedom of nature. The 
chase was at such times an amusement inseparable 
from nobility, and Bonaparte engaged in the exercise 
rather on that account than because it was a source 
of pleasure. But perhaps, Josephine never appeared 
more queenly than upon this adventure. With her 
attendants, she rode in an open caleche, her elegant 
riding habit falling in folds at her feet, a round hat 
crowning her head, and the white feathers dancing 
in the morning air ; while a glow of excitement gave 
to her superb countenance, a fine and luminous ex- 
pression Bonaparte admired exceedingly. The pic- 
nic which followed, was had beneath the shade of 
forest trees, the oratorio of birds, and beasts of mirth 
completing the accompaniments of the nomadic re- 
past. After a hot pursuit, a panting stag, with ant- 
lers thrown back, and pleading look, sought refuge 
beneath the carriage of the Empress. She interceded 
for the trembling fugitive, and his life was spared, 
with the ornament of a silver collar attached to his 
neck, as the signet-ring of her protection for the future. 
The wild protege bounded over the slopes and lay 
down in the glades, unharmed till his illustrious pre- 
server was no longer able to save him from the hunt- 
er's aim, but needed herself sympathy in the slow 
murder of her heart and frame. 

Josephine's correspondence which filled up moments 
of leisure, was elevating in sentiment and marked by 
that vivacity peculiar to her active mind. At the period 



266 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 



which has been embraced in the sketch of domestic 
scenes, she used her mfluence to make reconcihation 
among the members of her husband's family, who in 
taking possession of thrones and emoluments, often 
came in collision, returning in all her intercourse, kind- 
ness for the enmity she received as constantly from 
them. Madam Murat was an ambitious and rather 
imperious woman, inclined to usurp authority by virtue 
of her relationship to Napoleon. A letter from the Em= 
press on the subject, delineates the character of both 
the distinguished ladies. 

'' You are not, my sister, an ordinary woman ; 
and therefore I write to you after a fashion very 
different from that which I would employ with a 
common-place character, I tell you frankly, and 
mthout reserve, that I am dissatisfied with you. — 
How you actually torture the poor Murat ! you make 
him shed tears ! With so many means of pleasing, 
why do you ever prefer to command ? Your husband 
obeys through fear, when he ought to yield to per- 
suasion alone. By thus usurping a part which does 
not belong to us, you convert a brave man into a 
timid slave, and yourself into an exacting tyrant. — 
This brings shame to him, and cannot be an honor 
to you. Our glory — the glory of woman — lies in 
submission ; and if it be permitted us to reign, our 
empire rests on gentleness and goodness. Your 
husband, already so great in the opinion of the world, 
through his valor and exploits, feels as if he beheld 
all his laurels brought to the dust on appearing in 
your presence. You take a pride in humbling them 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 267 

before your pretensions ; and the title of being the 
sister of a hero is, with you, reason for believing 
yourself a heroine. Believe me, my sister, that 
character, with the qualities which it supposes, be- 
comes us not. Let us joy modestly in the glory of 
our spouses, and place ours in softening their man- 
ners, and leading the world to pardon their deeds. 
Let us merit this praise, that the nation, while it ap- 
plauds the bravery of our husbands, may also com- 
mend the gentleness bestowed by Providence on their 
wives to temper that bravery." 

She also wrote to the Emperor's mother, to secure 
if possible her aid in healing the discords rife in the as- 
cendant dynasty, and restore the harmony which van- 
ished with the spreading glory of him, to whose af- 
fection alone his relatives owed their rank. Had it 
not been for natural ties, Bonaparte in his contempt 
of their quarrels, would have swept them from his 
path, and gone to the common mass for successors to 
their honors. The communication mentioned was as 
follows :-^- 

" Madam and most honored Mother, — ^Employ 
the ascendency which your experience, dignity, vir- 
tues, and the love of the Emperor give, in order to 
restore to his family that internal peace now ban- 
ished from it. I fear to intrude in these domestic 
dissensions, from the apprehension lest calumny 
should accuse me of inflaming them by such inter- 
ference. It belongs to you, madam, to bring back 
calm ; and for this purpose, it is only necessary to 
say that you are informed of these discords. Your 



268 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE- 

prudence will have commenced the work by point- 
ing out the evil, and will speedily discover the 
remedy. I name no person, but your sagacity will 
divine all concerned. You are not a stranger to hu- 
man passion ; and vice, which has never approached 
you, will discover itself in those who are dear to 
you, through the very interest which you take in 
their welfare. You will not be long in remarking 
the progress of ambition, perhaps that of cupidity, 
in more than one mind, ingenuous till now, but 
which the favors of fortune begin to corrupt. You 
will view with apprehension the constantly increas- 
ing ravages of luxury, and, with still more pain, 
the want of feeling that follows in its train. I do 
not, however, insist upon this accusation, because, 
perhaps, it has less foundation than the rest, and be- 
cause it is not impossible I may have taken for hard- 
ness of heart what was only intoxication of spirit. 
Be this, however, as it may, the effect is the same, 
manifested as this haughtiness is by vanity, insolence, 
and harsh refusals, producing deplorable impressions 
upon those who witness these outrages. Men are 
not slow to sharpen the memory of those who seem 
disposed to forget their origin, and the sole means 
of inducing others to pardon our good fortune is to 
enjoy it with moderation, sharing its gifts with those 
who have been less favored." 

Turning from the incidents in the daily life of the 
imperial household, we find the years were full of stir- 
ring events to the political world. A continent was 
all astir — with marching armies — the making and 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 269 

breaking of treaties — intrigues and plots of assassin- 
ation. A new order of nobility was founded, and the 
ancient university re-built upon a foundation in har- 
mony with the despotic views of a sovereign whose 
opinions were strangely modified by the successive 
strides he made in the path of his solitary grandeur. 
This universal unrest, was a condition of things 
congenial to Bonaparte, to whom the pleasure of re- 
tirement and love itself, " was a song piped at the in- 
tervals of the dance" — and, " as his favorite poet Os- 
sian, loved best to tune his lyre to the noise of the 
roaring tempest, Napoleon in like manner, required 
political storms and opposing elements to display his 
wonderful abilities." His astonishing successes awed 
the nations, and expanded the horizon of his ambi- 
tion, until he could gaze upon no object that cast a 
shadow of uncertainty on the boundless prospect 
without irritation, and hold communion with none but 
himself A new leaf is soon turned in the destiny of 
Empires, of Napoleon, and of the guardian angel who 
had hung with delight over his path of glory, and with 
tears over his couch of suffering — shrinking only from 
the frown of displeasure or accents of reproach. 



CHAPTER IX. 

A NEW PHASE IN Josephine's Destiny. — Napoleon's Love. — His desire 

FOK A successor. — RUMOR THAT THE PrINCE RoYAL OF HOLLAND IS TO 
BE THE HEIR-APPARENT. — CHARACTER OF THE YOUNG PrINCE.— HiS AFFEC- 
TION FOR Bonaparte. — Alternate hope and fear. — The Prince dies, 
— Josephine's grief. — Napoleon's return from Tilsit. — Treatment of 
THE Empress. — Journey to italy. — Scenes at the Capital.— Napole- 
on.— Josephine's DIARY. — Spanish affairs. — Incidents of the journey. 
— The Emperor meets Alexander.— Results.— Josephine. — Return to 
Paris. — Bonaparte's designs. — Preparations for a Divorce. — Decree 
OF the Council. — Consummation. 

Astronomers tell us of a star which once shone 
out in the heavens with almost unrivaled brilliancy. 
It took its place in the firmament suddenly and un- 
heralded, where it blazed with a glory which was not 
only the admiration and wonder of the common ob- 
server, but which struck with astonishment men who 
had grown old in tracing the glories of the universe. 
Whence came so suddenly forth " this bright pecu- 
liar star?" what its meaning and mission, were ques- 
tions upon which philosophers, at once, began to busy 
themselves. In the midst of their efforts the object 
upon which they had mused and marveled began to 
fade away. As men were looking upon it and won- 
dering at its brightness, its lustre began to pale before 
their eyes. Night after night as they gazed up into 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 271 

the heavens, they saw its glory vanishing as it grad- 
ually withdrew from the place where it had been en- 
throned as queen among the stars, till a sadness and 
an awe fell upon the beholder, when he caught the 
last beam which it sent down to earth, as it passed 
away from the sight of man forever. 

We have frequently thought of this wonderful star 
as we have been tracing the singular history of her, 
who like that orb, blazed forth so suddenly and shone 
so brightly upon the visions of men, and who, also 
like it, was destined to have her glory fade, and be 
consigned to obscurity as surprising as had been her 
elevation to splendor and renown. 

Hitherto we have seen Josephine constantly rising 
in her position in life. Every step was an ascending 
one, and every station which she occupied seemed to 
receive from her a dignity equal to that which it con- 
ferred. As she sat upon the throne of France, or 
moved with queenly grace through the halls of the 
Tuilleries, or manifested her intelligence and gentle- 
ness to those who were privileged with her society, 
none could fail to see that she was fully worthy to 
share the rank and heart of that strange man Avho 
called her his own. That Napoleon was proud of 
Josephine, and that he loved her we may not doubt. 
Himself of plebeian origin, he had no reason to value 
her the less because she was of patrician rank. Na- 
poleon made distinctions, and allowed neither his 
feelings nor his purposes to be controlled by any 
which society had raised. The dignity which the 
Archduchess Maria Louisa brought with her, failed 



272 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

to elicit from Napoleon's heart the admiration or the 
love which he had formerly lavished upon Josephine. 
He looked upon Josephine as a woman, and valued 
her as such, independently of any station which she 
might have previously held in society. As his Em- 
press, receiving the homage of his court to her rare 
elegance of person and manners, he doubtless admi- 
red her, but it was the heart of Josephine which he 
loved. Her's was a warmth of affection, rarely com- 
bined with so much culture and strength of intellect, 
and contrary to the opinion of some, we are con- 
strained to believe that it was this which enabled her 
to exercise over the Emperor so controlling a power. 
It was a rare thing for Napoleon to be loved. His 
people and courtiers admired, and some almost rever- 
enced him : his enemies feared full as much as they 
hated him ; his soldiers would court the shock of bat- 
tle — would brave dangers and death — would endure 
privation and hardship, and suffering and toil, in the 
passion of their devotion to him ; but Napoleon well 
knew that amid all the hosts who fawned before him 
or would meet death in his service, few indeed there 
were who poured out upon him the rich wealth of a 
loving, trusting heart. The affection of Josephine,, 
was thus especially gratifying to his stern nature. 
Knowing that she loved him fondly, truly, devotedly, 
and perceiving in her as he did, all those qualities of 
person and intellect which could command his admi- 
ration, it was impossible for him to fail in having a 
corresponding affection for her in return. We have 
the best evidence to believe that Napoleon not only 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 273 

admired, but loved his beautiful wife, and the tale is 
a singular and sad one, which we are compelled to 
relate, how his heart grew cold towards Josephine, as 
he gathered in and centered once more upon himself, 
the affection which only one being besides himself had 
ever shared. It adds a fresh coloring to the ambition 
a id self-love of that wonderful man, who could stride 
with equal ease over a heart which he had broken, 
and a throne which he had crushed. 

The coolness with which the Emperor now began 
to regard Josephine, was of slow growth. It was im- 
possible that he should at once break away from all 
the chains which her affection had thrown over his 
heart. But self-love was, with Napoleon, a passion 
far stronger than his love for Josephine. His own 
genius had raised him to greatness ; his own power, 
and wondrous energy had made all Europe stand in 
awe before him, and borne him to an elevation where 
he could toy with crowns and sceptres as the baubles 
of a child. His gigantic spirit had risen to eminence 
by its own might, and unaided had it swept away old 
dynasties which crowded in his path, and made gray 
monarchies to totter till they fell at his feet. Jose- 
phine occupied a portion of his heart ; — the remain- 
der, was filled only with himself. Standing as he 
did, upon the pinnacle of his greatness, and survey- 
ing the whole extent of his power, there were frequent 
moments of bitter mortification when he felt that none 
of his schemes were immortal, that all this vast edi- 
fice reared by his hand was to crumble away at his 
death. Had he offspring to whom he could transmit 



^74 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

it, and thus perpetuate his name and sovereignty, his 
aspirations would have been unchecked. It was a 
wound which his pride keenly felt, that when he 
should pass away from earth, he could leave no child 
to sway his sceptre, and send onward to distant gene- 
rations the echo of his fame. It was long before he 
would allow this to influence his feelings towards Jo- 
sephine. He loved her, and it was a struggle to tear 
away the affections which he had really and fondly 
bestowed ; but where was the earthly object which 
could stand in the way of his hopes ? 

The Empress saw the gathering storm. Dark fore- 
bodings tortured her heart. She marked the cold 
look, the averted eye, and with her natural quick- 
ness of perception at once divined the cause. But it 
was not possible for her to look quietly on and see the 
blighting change without making at least one effort 
to regain his waning love. To be queen of his heart, 
was richer to her a thousand fold, than to wear the 
diadem of France upon her brow. She could see the 
throne crumble beneath her, and could bear to have 
the admiring murmurs of the courtly throng who 
pressed around her, exchanged for taunts and scorn, 
but she could not feel without a pang that she was 
looked upon carelessly by him, around whom cluster- 
ed all the warmest, fondest feelings of her heart. 

For a time, Josephine believed that she still re- 
tained her hold upon his affections. She had reason 
to think that Napoleon would be content to make the 
Prince Royal of Holland his successor. The report 
was widely circulated that this was the Emperor's in- 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 275 

tention, and there is now every reason to believe that 
such was his plan. The child belonged to the impe- 
rial family. He was the eldest son of Hortense, and 
his father was the favorite brother of Napoleon. He 
bore his uncle's name, and even in his childish sports 
gave evidence that he possessed in no small degree, 
his uncle's character. The Emperor would relax his 
sternness, and unbend himself from the cares of state 
and perplexities of war, to take the young Napoleon 
upon his knee, and listen to his prattle of the rev- 
olutions he would guide when he became a man. 
Though but a child, his firmness of character seemed 
unyielding, even to the severe tests to which Napoleon 
at times took pleasure in subjecting it. A smile would 
spread over the Emperor's calm features as he saw 
his nephew come forth unsubdued, from every trial to 
which he had submitted him. One day a domestic 
had allowed him to partake freely of a fruit which had 
been forbidden him, on account of the indisposition 
which uniformly attended the indulgence. In the 
illness which ensued, Hortense endeavored to learn 
the name of the servant who had disobeyed her com- 
mands, in givhig him the luxury. The young Prince 
raised himself in the bed, while an untamed fire sat 
in his bright eye, as he said — " I promised that I 
would not tell, and I will die before I break my prom- 
ise." This firmness, joined to a passion which he 
seemed to have for military exploits, especially en- 
deared him to the heart of his uncle. He would 
buckle around him the Emperor's sword-belt, and 
donning his plumed ckapeau,\vou\d act the general in 



276 LIFE aF JOSEPHINE. 

the saloons of the Tuilleries or at Fontainbleau, with 
infinite glee. His affection for Napoleon was stronger 
than for any other object. Neither Josephine nor his 
parents, could have any rivalry in the unbounded love 
with which he regarded his uncle. The play-things 
which Napoleon gave him, were valued higher than 
the richer presents which he had received from any 
other source. Bonaparte was first in all his affections. 
His morning salutations must be given first to him 
alone ; his first inquiries were respecting him ; his first 
efforts were to please him. A smile from that counte- 
nance which had looked death from so many battle 
fields was rapture to his boyish heart. 

These traits and the fact that he was in the direct 
imperial line, determined Napoleon to make him his 
heir. It was the court talk at Paris and the Hague. 
Nobles of the realm paid their devoirs to the young 
Prince as their future lord. Marshals of the Empire, 
were wont to gaze curiously at him, and wonder 
whether he would ever plan a battle which should 
place a nation in his grasp. Intriguing politicians 
began to scheme how they might best secure his 
favor, and crafty courtiers already strove to gain a 
permanent place in his regards. All this was well 
known to Napoleon, and it cannot be supposed that 
he had given no reason for it. He noticed and seemed 
pleased with the attentions which his young nephew 
received. The report which came to his ears agam 
and again, that he had intimated his intention of 
adopting the Prince, was never contradicted. That 
such was his plan is not at all improbable. The 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 277 

King of Holland was then in the highest favor with 
his brother ; the Q.ueen was the only daughter of 
Josephine, and as such endeared to the Emperor by a 
thousand ties. The young prince was not only a favor- 
ite but Napoleon would have preferred such a succes- 
sion, rather than to obtain another by breaking the heart 
of Josephine. The Empress saw all this with gratitude 
and hope. She was a woman of great shrewdnessj 
and her efforts had been chiefly instrumental in bring- 
ing about a state of things so favorable. She under- . 
stood perfectly the precise place which she occupied in 
her husband's affections. She knew that he loved 
her, but she also knew that her hold upon his heart 
was one that would be broken whenever it should lie 
in the way of his ambition. Her keen penetration 
instantly detected the cause, the first time his aliena- 
tion towards her was manifested. She had feared 
that an ungrateful desire for a successor would event- 
ually modify his feeling towards her, and the remedy 
for this may have been devised by herself. Certainly 
she used every effort to strengthen the affection be- 
tween the Emperor and his nephew, confident that 
if she succeeded in this, her influence over Napoleon 
would still be undiminished. 

Her expectations were not in vain. The cloud 
rolled from the Emperor's brow as he saw with cer- 
tainty how he might still retain Josephine, and the 
impsrial line of descent remain unbroken. His appar- 
ent aversion vanished. His former love returned and 
sunny days once more beamed radiantly upon Jose- 
phine. The full fountain of her affection flowed 
13 



278 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

forth freely, and Napoleon forgot at times that he was 
an Emperor, and remembered only that he was a 
man. The genial feelings now cherished towards 
his wife, opens a brighter view of his character than 
we could otherwise obtain. Though blended with 
the sterner emotions which always ruled him, they 
show that his iron nature was not altogether unyield- 
ing. They are like a gleam of sunshine resting 
upon the bosom of the thunder-cloud, lighting up the 
dark birthplace of the tempest, and making it smile 
with its own celestial beauty. 

These were bright hours in the life of Josephine, 
but darker days were soon to fling their shadows on 
her path. A blow, so uniooked for that she had 
hardly dreamed that it were possible, fell at length 
upon her, breaking the spell that bound her spirit, 
and blotting every ray from the firmament of hope. 
In the spring of 1807, the young prince died. An 
illness so sudden that it had proved fatal before the 
court physicians who had been summoned at once 
from Paris could reach him, closed his life of promise. 
Josephine was then at St. Cloud, and the courier who 
first brought her tidings of the sickness of the prince, 
was followed in a few hours by another bearing the 
news of his death. The bolt was a terrible one — under | 
no other affliction had her sorrow appeared so great. 
Day after day she shut herself up in her apartments, 
weeping bitterly and " refusing to be comforted." Her 
own affection for her grandson doubtless contributed < 
to her grief, but its chief source was the fact that the 
strongest tie which bound her to the Emperor was 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 279 

now riven. She well knew his desires ; she under- 
stood fully his nature, and familiar with the un- 
bounded sweep of his purposes, she might rationally 
tremble for the result. Broken with grief, her heart 
quailed with fear as she attempted to lift the veil 
which separated her from a future all gloom and sad- 
ness to her thought. 

Napoleon was conducting the Prussian campaign 
when the news reached him of his nephew's death. 
It gave him unfeigned sorrow, for his love and ambi- 
tion were wounded, and his plans for the succession of 
his crown were of course frustrated at once. " To 
whom shall I leave all this," was the constantly re- 
curring expression of his emotion as he viewed his 
daily increasing power ; and the design was now 
formed with perfect calmness and deliberation to 
abandon Josephine, and seek for himself a new Em- 
press from one of the reigning houses of Europe. 
This was what the heart of Josephine feared. She 
would have given worlds to have been with him, but 
many leagues intervened between St. Cloud and 
Tilsit. Rumors of Napoleon's movements which were 
constantly coming to the Empress's ears only served 
to harass her, and increase her anxiety. It was said 
that he had renewed an acquaintance with a beauti- 
ful Polish lady to whom he was formerly attached,* 
and exaggerated accounts of an interview which he 
was said to have held with the Q.ueen of Prussia, 
were carried to Josephine. But above all, the news 

* This lady afterwards visited Napoleon at Elba. 



280 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

which produced the HveHest emotions and awakened 
the keenest sohcitude in her breast, was the vague 
report, more terrible on account of its vagueness, that 
Napoleon had made direct overtures to the Emperor 
Alexander, for an alliance by marriage with the im- 
perial family of Russia. Josephine could not believe, 
and yet she dared not discredit the story. Separated 
for the time from her immediate influence, she felt 
that he might interpose a hopeless barrier should he 
once decide that she stood in the way of his stupend- 
ous designs. 

On the 27th of July of this year. Napoleon rejoined 
the Empress at St. Cloud. He was flushed with the 
glories of a most brilliant campaign, and his arms 
had been every where successful. He had conquered 
at Preussich-Eylau and at Friedland, and was master 
of Dantzic and Koningsberg. He had humbled the 
pride of the King of Prussia by wresting from him 
some of his fairest possessions. He had at length 
brought the Emperor of Russia into an alliance upon 
the most favorable terms, and had succeeded in 
making a treaty of peace at Tilsit, in which he re- 
ceived every concession while he made none. By 
it the Rhenish confederacy was sustained ; his two 
brothers Joseph and Louis were acknowledged Kings 
of Naples and Holland, and Westphalia was avowed 
to be at his disposal. His claim was undisputed to 
the whole of the Prussian provinces between the Elbe 
and the Rhine. The Hanoverian states, the territo- 
ries belonging to the Duchy of Brunswick, the Land- 
grave of Hesse Cassel, together with the Ionian 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. /881 

Islands, were all his own. In addition to all this, by 
the treaty of peace, the previous encroachments of 
the French in various portions of Europe were sanc- 
tioned and confirmed. Flushed with these victories 
and acquisitions. Napoleon was prepared to meet Jo- 
sephine with an enthusiastic show of cordiality. No 
want of affection was manifested either on his part or 
her own. She received the most constant attentions 
from him, and for a time seemed never to imagine 
that the joy which he apparently felt in her presence, 
might be partly the results of the triumphs, v/hich he 
had lately achieved. 

For a few months Napoleon gave himself up to the 
enjoyment of her society at St. Cloud, and Fontain- 
bleau ; months of almost perfect happiness to his de- 
voted wife. She saw only the bright side of the pic- 
ture, and in the joy of the present moment forgot all 
that she had previously supposed or heard. But 
there were others, who at this time saw Napoleon in 
a different light. When removed from Josephine's 
presence, he lost that ease and quiet which he had had 
in her society, and displayed an impatience with his 
present condition, and restlessness that did not pass 
unobserved. He would sit for hours conversing with 
the Empress, but when she had left him, he could not 
remain calm for a moment. At such times, he would 
frequently take to the chase and pursue it with a per- 
fect frenzy of passion. Was he in this way endea- 
voring to escape from a dark design which was 
troubling his thoughts, and resting with a heavy 
weight upon his spirit ? Such were the surmises of 



283 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

his attendants, and it was even whispered that he had 
mentioned to another his purpose to obtain a divorce 
from his wife ; but these reports were not carried to 
the ears of Josephine. If this was his purpose, there 
was evidently an eifort, in which he perfectly suc- 
ceeded, to keep the knowledge of it from her, whom 
of all others it most concerned. Her usual penetra- 
tion appears for a time to have left her, and she 
lived on joyous and unconcerned, careless of the fu- 
ture ; as a flower opens its petals and smiles in the 
glad sun shine, unconscious that the storm is near 
which shall lay it low, and scatter its leaves to the 
winds of heaven. 

Such was the state of things for three months.* In 
November, Napoleon suddenly signified to Josephine 
his intention of proceeding to Italy, and bade her be 
ready to accompany him in a few hours. His osten- 
sible reason was to secure the Grand Duchy of Tus- 
cany for his sister Eliza, and to confirm by his pres- 
ence the treaty of Presburg, which had annexed Ven- 
ice and the other Italian provinces to the kingdom of 
Italy. But his main object was doubtless different 
from either of these. The conclusion is irresistible 
that his determination to divorce Josephine, was fixed 
soon after the death of the prince royal of Holland, 
and that his present journey to Italy, was mainly for 
the purpose of sounding Eugene upon this point. 

The viceroy with his attendants came out to meet 
him as he approached Milan ; " Dismount, dismount," 

* It was during this time that the Emperor framed the cele- 
brated Code Napoleon. 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 283 

cried Napoleon to Eagene — " come seat yourself with 
me, and let us enter your capital together." The 
viceroy did as desired, and the imperial carriage bear- 
ing Napoleon, Josephine and Eugene, entered the 
gates of the city. The Emperor signified to Eugene 
his approbation of all that he had done, and loaded 
him with favors. He saw that it vv^as highly impor- 
tant that, in the steps which he had determined to take 
in reference to Josephine, Eugene should be complais- 
ant, and it was doubtless in reference to this, that the 
famous Milan decree was promulgated, by which in 
default of his own lawful male heirs. Napoleon adop- 
ted Eugene as his son, and made him heir to the 
'' iron crown" of Italy. Satisfying himself that Eu- 
gene felt the obligations under which he was laid, 
and hoping in his after measures, to be able to deal 
with him successfully. Napoleon left Milan, and after 
a hasty tour through the other Italian provinces, re- 
turned with Josephine to Paris. 

The winter which succeeded this journey, was one 
of the gayest which Paris had known since the days 
of Louis XIY . The city was crowded with gay no- 
bles and demoiselles from all parts of the empire. 
Foreign ambassadors from every quarter of the world 
were present, and vied with each other in the splen- 
dor of their entertainments. The Emperor and Em- 
press held their court at St. Cloud, with unrivaled 
magnificence. Several marriages of high diplomatic 
importance were celebrated, all tending to swell the 
tide of gayety which was flowing in every part of the 
capital. The Duke of Arberg, one of the princes of 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 



the Rhenish Confederacy, led to the ahar Mademoi- 
selle de Tascher a niece of the Empress. Soon after 
were celebrated the nuptials of the Prince Hohenzol- 
lern with a niece of Murat, and speedily following, 
the Marshal Berthier was wedded to a princess of the 
royal house of Bavaria. Napoleon contrary to his 
usual custom mingled in all these festivities, display- 
ing an appearance of unwonted gaiety ; and even con- 
sented repeatedly to wear a disguise, and appear 
among the dancers at the masked balls. Josephine, 
however, began to penetrate the secret delusion and 
fathom his plans, notwithstanding his eiforts to con- 
ceal them from her knowledge. In all his atten- 
tions to herself ; in all his gaieties ; in all the honors 
which he had lavished upon her son, she began to 
read her own dark destiny. It was a terrible thought 
which forced itself upon her mind, that Napoleon's 
present appearance was only a guise, thrown over his 
own real feelings ; that the smile of his countenance 
with which he was wont to greet her, was designed 
to cover the frown which lay upon his heart. 

In public, no one read her own secret feelings. The 
heart which was ready to break seemed light and joy- 
ous as that of a child. She was playing a part as 
well as Napoleon, though none knew it then but her- 
self. With a resolute effort to hide her sorrow, she 
engaged in all the festivities of the season, danced 
and played, the gayest of the gay crowd which 
thronged the capital ; receiving with becoming grace 
all the attentions which the Emperor continued to be- 
stow upon her ; while all the time her soul was bur- 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 285 

dened, by the double anguish of slighted love, and 
wounded pride. The disposition of Josephine was nat- 
urally light and joyous. She was inclined by nature 
to find a bright view in every picture of life, and it was 
doubtless this which supported her so well under the 
knowledge she possessed of Napoleon's intentions to- 
wards her. Her hopefulness^ also led her at times 
fondly to trust that the storm would retire, while rea- 
son persuaded her that the Emperor would not allow 
her happiness to thwart the plan which she knew he 
cherished. What was she in comparison with him 1 
What was her poor human heart worth, and what 
availed the treasure of its affection to him, who made 
them subordinate to a throne, and the inscription of his 
name on its columns ? Bleeding affections, blasted 
hopes, and tears, never bowed the will of Napoleon. 
Josephine perfectly understood that such trifles in his 
path, would be swept away like chaff before the resist- 
less march of the whirlwind. 

Let not Napoleon, however, be misunderstood. As 
we have said before, he loved Josephine, and this, 
probably, with a stronger affection than he ever gave 
to any other object. But he would not let one of the 
purposes or plans which he had formed go unaccom- 
plished, though the world were to perish. " All, or 
nothing," was his motto when a boy in Corsica, and 
it was one feeling of his heart when he became a man. 
No plan which he made was a trivial one with him, 
for it affected himself. Every thing in his estimation 
should be subservient to him and every thing over 

which he had the control was made so. With this 
13* 



286 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE* 



view, we can easily see that his love for Josephine 
would not endure for a moment if it conflicted with 
any of his designs for self aggrandizement. The 
Empress understood it, and knowing that one of his 
cherished schemes was for the perpetuity of his em- 
pire, she now clearly saw that her own sacrifice was 
inevitable. The Prince of Holland had died ; the 
viceroy, Eugene, though adopted by Napoleon, Jose- 
phine knew could never be the successor to the em- 
pire. Upon no living member of his own family, 
would the Emperor fix his choice, and there was thus 
left no alternative to his seeking a wife who might 
bring him up an heir to the throne. 

It is not at all unnatural, that Napoleon should 
have so strong a desire for posterity. Aside from po- 
litical motives, and inordinate self love, such a desire 
belongs to every man. It is in a certain degree the 
outgoing of every one's natural affection. The owner 
of a single hut or of a petty farm, is unhappy if he 

have 

" No son of his succeeding," 

to whom he can leave his solitary estate. No one 
quits the world without desiring that there should 
be some link to connect him still to it ; that there 
remain behind him some stream of influence which 
has risen in himself, and which when he is gone 
shall flow on and move mankind. It is a wish 
natural to universal humanity, and there are few to 
which men cling with such sincere attachment. It 
belonged to Napoleon in common with his race, and 
was stronger in him than in any other man^ because 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 287 

his power was more extensive, and his influence 
vaster ; it was a desire commensurate with his own 
greatness, which grew with every victory, and strength- 
ened with every increase of his power, winding 
itself more and more closely about his heart with 
every step taken in his ascending career ; and which 
accompanied every thought of glory, and held a power 
over him only equalled by that which he himself 
swayed so tremendously over the minds of other men. 

Napoleon, however, gave Josephine no direct inti- 
mation of his intentions, but continued to treat her 
with all the cordiality which he had ever manifested. 
The winter passed as we have described, a scene of 
uninterrupted gaiety. The Emperor had, however, 
found time to plan a great movement upon Spain, 
which in the spring he began to carry into execution. 
Napoleon had long been bent upon having the Span- 
ish throne, and by the treaty of Tilsit, the Emperor 
of Russia had covenanted not to interfere with any of 
his designs in this respect, and the field was now 
open. Spain had broken her treaty with France, 
and thus afforded Napoleon all the pretext which he 
needed, to commence operations against her. His 
design was fixed that the Pyrenees should no longer 
separate these two independent monarchies ; that the 
house of Braganza as well as that of Bourbon should 
be demolished, and that of Bonaparte built upon the 
ruins of them both. 

Partly to make arrangements for this, he left St. 
Cloud early in April, accompanied by Josephine. 
The design of his journey as well as the fact that he 



288 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

coiiteinpiated it, were all unknown to the Empress, 
till a few hours previously to their departure. Fon- 
tainbleau was to be their first stopping place after 
having left St. Cloud, and the following hasty note 
written by Josephine to the Countess de la Rochefou-. 
cauld, her lady of honor at Pontainbleau, illustrates 
the suddenness with which she was frequently com- 
pelled to meet the behests of the Emperor. 

^' We set out at four this morning,* and will be 
with you to breakfast at ten. I hasten to expedite 
this billet, that you may not be taken by surprise. 
You know the Emperor's activity and inflexible res- 
olution ; both seem to increase with events. But an 
hour ago I was completely ignorant of this departure. 
We were at cards. ' Be ready, madam,' said he to 
me, ' to get into your carriage at midnight.' ' But,^ 
answered I, ' it is now past nine.' ' It is so,' said he, 
^ you must require some time for your toilet ; let us 
start at two.' ' Where are you going, if you please ? ' 
' To Bayonne.' What, so far ! and my pensioners, 
I must regulate their affairs.' ' I cannot, madam, re- 
fuse you one hour for the unfortunate ; take another 
to write to your friends — you will not forget Madam 
de la Rochefoucauld.' Good night, my dear friend. 
I am just falling asleep — they will carry me thus to 
the carriage, and I shall not awaken till with you, to 
bid you good morning and embrace you with all my 
heart." 

The journey thus announced proved an eventful 
one to Josephine as well as to Napoleon. We cannot 



*It was the 5th of April. 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 289 

better relate it than by inserting the hasty notes which 
she penned during its progress. It was the last tour 
of importance which she ever made with Napoleon. 

'' This evening we leave St. Cloud, in order to visit 
the whole of the western coast of France. I shall 
trace a few notes in pencil. 

" At Etampes* we were stopped by a number of 
young people of both sexes, who presented us, some 
with cherries, other with roses. The Emperor, in 
passing through their village, sent for the mayor and 
the curate. The former a merry peasant, began to 
banter his compatriots on the nature of their pres- 
ents. ' Certainly,' said the Emperor, ' however beau- 
tiful theirs may be, an ear of corn and a bunch of 
grapes would have been more rare.' ' Here are three 
of each sort,' replied the rural magistrate ; ' and 
confess, sir, that in iipril, it is good farming.' ^ Na- 
ture has been bountiful to your canton,' observed 
the Emperor, presenting the oifering to me. ' Accept 
it, madam ; and forget not those whom Providence 
designs to keep in mind.' ' Providence,' said the cu- 
rate, ' always blesses the industrious ; for they fulfil 
the most important of his laws.' ' Here,' remarked 
the Emperor, making a sign for the postillions to pro- 
ceed, ' here are men who unite flowers and fruits, the 
useful with the agreeable. They deserve to succeed.' 

* " Etampes is the first town in the Oiieannais proceeding from 
Paris to Bordeaux. The passapje is interesting, as an example 
of Napoleon's manner with his subjects ] but how are we to ex- 
plain corn and grapes in April. Was this one of his contri- 
vances ? " — Memes^ 



290 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

^" Orleans. — The national guard was under arms, 
and the authorities in full attendance ; but from the 
knitting of his brows, I saw that the Emperor was 
not pleased. ' It is painful for me,' were his words 
' to have to repay with severity these expressions 
of joy. But I have no reproaches to make to the 
people ; I address myself to the authorities. You 
perform the functions improperly, or you do not 
perform them at all. How have the sums been em- 
ployed which I granted for the canal ? How comes 
it, that on the roll of sales two thousand arpents of 
common, as divided in 1805 and 1806, are totally 
suppressed ? 1 require restitution. The national do- 
mains have been below par, and the purchases more 
difficult during the last eighteen months — the date 
of your entering upon office, Mr. Prefect. Whence 
are these things ? I am not ignorant that here there 
exists two opinions, as directly opposed to the gov- 
ernment as they are to each other. I have no desire 
that opinions should be subjects of persecution ; but 
if they break out into deeds, and these deeds be 
crimes — no pity ! ' The storm passed, the Emperor 
assumed a less severe tone, and talked famiharly 
with the bishop and civil functionaries, not except- 
ing even the prefect. But his observations were 
just. It is but too certain, that in these departments 
of the Loire the jacobins and emigrants have in turn 
been protected. 

" Bordeaux. — Here exists two dispositions perfectly 
distinct, and that in a reverse sense from those which 
prevail throughout almost the whole of France. 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 291 

There the people love the revolution, and the privi- 
leged classes alone oppose its progress, or rather 
retard its results. These results are strong and 
liberal institutions, which time, that wears out all 
others, will, on the contrary, tend to consolidate. 
In order to found these institutions upon the ruins of 
party, there required a conqueror who was also a 
legislator, and that legislator continuing to be a con- 
queror. All must unite in the regeneration of a 
state. To chain down faction, by converting its pas- 
sions into common interests, is but little — nothing 
more, at most, than half the work — if to these 
neighboring interests be not attached. Before we 
can be master at home, at once happy and glorious 
there, we must neither be under apprehensions from 
each other, nor dread the process of erecting a wall 
of partition. But how is this to be accomplished ? 
First by reducing all to submission, and then by ex- 
tending to each a friendly hand, which may secure 
without humbling. This is the Emperor's doctrine, 
which he has applied to France, which France has 
devotedly accepted ; readily comprehending that a 
period of transition, of trial, of reparation, could not 
be an era of enjoyment. ' To-day,' has the Emperor 
often said to me, ' to-day we sow in tears and in 
blood ; hereafter, we shall reap glory and liberty.' 
This is exactly what mercantile selfishness prevents 
them from understanding at Bordeaux. Altogether 
opposed to the rest of the empire, the body of the 
people here oppose the new institutions, they per- 
ceive only the temporary obstacle which these insti- 



292 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 

tutions present, not to commerce, but to their own 
particular commerce. What to them imports the 
good of to-morrow ? It is the profit of to-day they 
want. Some facts have confirmed these observa- 
tions. While we were on our way to the theatre 
the vivas of the crowd were rare, but within the 
house the applause was general and continued. The 
coup d^ceil of the port is magnificent ; all the ships 
were hung with flags and fired minute guns, to which 
the forts replied. The whole of the animated, and, 
despite its discontent, joyous population, the variety 
of sounds, songs, movements, and costumes, pre- 
sented a delightful sight. We were particularly 
struck on seeing a southern dance executed by three 
hundred young persons of both sexes, in small brown 
jackets, blue pantaloons, red sashes, straw hats 
turned up with ribands and flowers, who, guided by 
various instruments, and each with castanets or a 
tambarine, darted forwards, united, turned, and 
leaped with equal rapidity and elegance. 

" Bayonne. — About tv/o leagues from this city the 
Emperor Avas presented with a spectacle worthy of 
him. On the declivity of a mountain gently scooped 
out in different parts of its descent is pitched one of 
those camps which the foresight of the country has 
provided for its defenders. It is composed of seven 
handsome barracks, different in form and aspect, each 
isolated, surrounded with an orchard in full bearing, 
a well-stocked poultry yard, and at different dis- 
tances, a greater or less quantity of arable land, 
where a diversity of soil yields a variety of produce. 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE, 293 

One side of the moimtdin is wild, but picturesque, 
with rocks and plants ; the other seems covered with 
rich tapestry, so varied and numerous are the plots 
of richly-cultivated ground. The summit is clothed 
with an ever- verdant forest; and down the centre, 
in a deep channel, flows a limpid stream, refreshing 
and fertilizing the whole scene. On this spot the 
veterans who occupy it gave a fete to the Emperor, 
which was at once military and rural. The wives, 
daughters, and little children of these brave men 
formed the most pleasing, as they were themselves 
the noblest, ornament of the festival. Amid piles 
of arms were seen beautiful shrubs covered with 
flowers, while the echoes of the mountain resounded 
to the bleating of flocks and the warlike strains of a 
soldiery intoxicated on thus receiving their chief. 
The Emperor raised this enthusiasm to the highest 
pitch by sitting down at a table at once quite mili- 
tary and perfectly pastoral, and drinking with these 
brave fellows, all of whom had risked their lives in 
his service. Toasts were given to all that does 
honor to the French name — ' to our native land ;' 
^ to glory ;' 'to liberty.' I dare not mention the 
attentions of which I was the object ; they touched 
me deeply ; for I regarded them as proofs of that 
veneration which France has vowed to the Emperor. 
" At Bayonne an important personage waited the 
Emperor's arrival, namely, Don Pedro de las Torres, 
private envoy of Don Juan Escoiquitz, preceptor of 
the Prince of Asturias. As a consequence of the 
events of Aranjuez, this latter has been proclaimed 



294 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

under the title of Ferdinand YIL ; but the old King 
Charles, from whom fear had exorted an abdication, 
now protests against that act. The new monarch 
pretends that his father, led by the queen, who is in 
turn the puppet of the Prince of Peace, never has had, 
and never can have, a will of his own. Meanwhile, 
the nation, taking the alarm, is divided between two 
heads. If one party reproach Charles with being 
wholly devoted to the will of Manuel Godoy, the other 
imputes to Ferdinand that of acknowledging no prin- 
ciples of action save those dictated to him by Don 
Juan Escoiquitz. The first, haughty and imperti- 
nent, as are all favorites, keeps his master in bondage 
and the people in humiliation ; the second, honey- 
tongued and wheedling, at once deceives the nation 
and enslaves his pupil. Both have caused, and still 
cause the misfortunes of Spain. 

" What in truth, can be more deplorable than the 
respective situation of the governors and governed ? 
The former are without confidence, the latter without 
attachment. Amid these two factions, which may 
well be termed parricidal, a third has secretly sprung 
up, which calculates upon, perhaps encourages their 
misunderstanding, in order to favor the triumph of 
liberty. But is ignorant and superstitious Spain pre- 
pared to receive this blessing ? With her haughty 
nobles, and bigoted priesthood, her slothful population, 
how can she execute an enterprise which supposes the 
love of equality, the practice of toleration, and an 
heroic activity ? 

" These are things which the Emperor will have 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 295 

to consider. He is appealed to by all parties as medi- 
ator ; he arrives among them without knoAvledge of 
them, and, as a man, feels perfect impartiality. His 
enlightened policy will take counsel of necessity ; and 
in this great quarrel, of which he is constituted um- 
pire, will reconcile what is due to the interests of 
France with what is demanded for the safety of Spain. 
" This same Don Pedro de las Torris has not been 
sent without his errand. Don Juan, his patron, knew 
that he possessed some leagues from Bayonne, an ex- 
tensive farm, on which are bred numerous flocks of 
merinoes. Thither, under a plausible pretext, we 
were conducted to-day. After a feast of really riistic 
magnificence, we made the tour of the possession on 
loot. At the bottom of a verdant dell, surrounded on 
all sides by rocks covered with moss and flowers, all 
of a sudden a picturesque cot appeared lightly sus- 
pended on a projecting point of rock, while round it 
were feeding between seven and eight hundred sheep 
of the most beautiful breed. We could not restrain a 
cry of admiration ; and upon the Emperor addressing 
him in some compliments, Don Pedro declared that 
these flocks belonged of right to me. ' The king, my 
master, added he, ' knows the Empress's taste for ru- 
ral occupations ; and as this species of sheep is little 
known in France, and will constitute the principle 
ornament, and consequently wealth of a farm, he en- 
treats her not to deprive herself of an oflering at once 
so useful and so agreeable. ' Don Pedro,' replied the 
Emperor, with a tone of severity, ' the Empress can- 
not accept the present save from the hands of the 



296 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

king, and your master is not yet one. Wait, before 
making your offering, until your own nation and I 
have decided.' The remainder of the visit was very 
ceremonious." 

At Bayonne, also, they met the Prince of Asturias, 
who had been induced to cross the Bidassoa in the 
vain hope of being recognized by Napoleon as King 
of Spain. Such, however, were not at all the Empe- 
ror's plans ; his own designs upon Spain would admit 
of no such course. He promptly told Ferdinand that 
he must relinquish the throne. Finding him less tract- 
able than he had anticipated. Napoleon ordered Murat 
at Madrid to send over Charles IV., and the Q,ueen to 
Bayonne. The feuds in their own family, and in the 
Spanish government Y^^ere such that they instantly 
obeyed, and meeting Napoleon they threw themselves 
at once and entirely upon his protection. The efforts 
of Charles and the Emperor were now brought to bear 
upon Ferdinand, to induce him to resign his claims to 
the succession of the Spanish crown. Charles himself 
had previously abdicated the throne in favor of Fer- 
dinand, but this act had been unrecognized by Napo- 
leon, and it was now regarded as void. On the 5th 
of May, Charles renewed his abdication, but at this 
time giving his crown to Napolonn. On the 12th of 
the same month, Ferdinand was brought to a renun- 
ciation of all his claims, thus surrendering to Napoleon 
the full title to the inheritance of Arragon and Castile. 

The struggles by which he was afterwards com- 
pelled to maintain this possession belong to Napoleon's, 
rather than to Josephine's history. But in mathe- 



LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 297 

noeuvrings which were carried on at Bayonne and by 
which they were gained, Josephine acted her full 
part. Her brilhant conversation and the charms of 
her person won the favor of the Spanish King. Her 
rare elegance and grace captivated the heart of the 
Spanish Q,ueen ; while her remarkable insight into 
character, and the readiness with which she detected 
motives, assisted Napoleon much in influencing 
Charles and Ferdinand. The issue was doubtless 
owing mainly to the finesse of the Emperor, but the 
adroitness of Josephine exerted no feeble influence in 
bringing matters to a successful termination. Jose- 
phine had an apprehension of the result to which all 
these things might lead, which Napoleon seems never 
to have entertained. In anticipating the consequences 
of any great undertaking, her opinion if it differed from 
his, was very likely to be the safer one. It was at 
least so in the present case. The Emperor never be- 
lieved that his plans could fail. As Josephine once 
said of him, and none could speak from a better 
knowledge — "Napoleon is persuaded that he is to 
subjugate all the nations of the earth. He cherishes 
such a confidence in his star.) that should he be aban- 
doned to-morrow by his family and allies, a wanderer 
and proscribed, he would support life, convinced that 
he should yet triumph over all obstacles and accom- 
plish his destiny by realizing his mighty designs.'^ 
This confidence, if it enabled him to realize some of 
his plans, certainly prevented him from seeing the 
difficulties which would attend the accomplishment 
of others. Josephine calm and unbiassed, looked at 



298 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 

every possible danger and formed an opinion in refer- 
ence to it, in many cases, far more accurately than 
Napoleon. In the present instance, had he taken her 
advice he would have pursued a different, and, as the 
the result showed, a wiser course. His compact with 
Charles and Ferdinand, and the campaign which 
grew out of it, were the first steps to his overthrow. 
Leaving Bayonne on the 21st of July, the imperial 
pair continued their journey, visiting Pau, Tarbes, 
Toulouse, Montauban, Bordeaux, La Yendee and 
Nantes. Every where they were received with the 
greatest favor. Public addresses congratulating him 
upon his success, and applauding his benevolent 
deeds, met the Emperor in every city. Citizens 
flocked to meet him, crowding in his path, and hail- 
ing him as the liberator and saviour of their country. 
Old men, tottered forth to catch one look at the won- 
derful Corsican, who strode so rapidly to eminence, 
and having seen him, went again to their homes con- 
tented now to die. Little children who had been 
hushed to stillness by the story of his battles, cried to 
behold him, and were seen in their nurses' arms in 
every street through which he passed. His whole 
coarse was like a triumphal procession, and he per- 
fectly understood how to avail himself of it, and make 
it turn to his future advantage. He manifested an 
affability and interest in the affairs of the common 
people which delighted them ; and when he returned 
to Paris, he knew that he could rely on the entire de- 
votion to his cause, of every province through which 
he had journeyed. 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 299 

Josephine evidently seemed to have enjoyed this tour. 
She was pleased with the affection with which the Em- 
peror was received, for her whole heart was still his 
own, and delighted with every thing which could 
minister to his pleasure or success. Still, she returned 
to Paris more fully convinced than ever that the Em- 
peror's intentions were, when a convenient time should 
come, to set her aside and place the diadem which 
she wore, upon another brow. 

It is singular, that this same journey, which opened 
to Josephine more fully Napoleon's plans concerning 
himself, also shed a stronger light upon the difficulty 
of carrying these plans into execution. The proofs 
of the Empress's goodness and attachment were dis- 
played to him at every step of the way, and he had 
never seen them so fully before, because never con- 
trasted so beautifully with his own dark designs. 
Without a murmur she had left St. Cloud at his bid- 
ding, and had endured with cheerfulness the change 
from the ease of a palace to the inconvenience of a 
journey, long and hastily provided for, finding hourly 
satisfaction in the thought that she was gratifying 
him. She had cherished him under all the weariness 
of the journey, and made him feel that every joy was 
sweeter because it was witnessed by her. She had 
added in this tour another chain around his hcci^ 
which he felt it v/ould be difficult to break when he 
put her away. And he remembered his lowly for- 
tunes when he v/on his bride, and the assistance she 
had rendered in bringing him to his present renown. 
He thought of his absence in Egypt, of his trials and 



300 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 

apprehensions there, and then he reflected that every 
fear had been dispelled, and every obstacle in the 
way of his success removed before his return, chiefly 
by the eflbrts which Josephine had put forth in his be- 
half. He recollected her sacrifices for him, and how 
many personal comforts she had freely given up to 
advance his interests. The vision of Josephine as 
Empress also rose before him. He thought of her 
talents and taste ; he remembered the grace and dig- 
nity with which she was wont to play her part in the 
Imperial pageant. He heard over and again the 
murmur of admiration which was always called forth 
at her approach. All these he could not slight, none 
of them could he forget, yet though the difficulties 
in the way of his separation from her were thus in- 
creased by the excursion to Bayonne, his purposes for 
taking such a step had never been stronger than when 
he entered the capital on their return. The history 
of Bonaparte is pre-eminently that of one in whose 
path difliculties only appeared to fan the flame and 
increase the strength of the desire, which they seemed 
to oppose. 

The Emperor and Josephine reached St. Cloud 
early in August. The Emperor's birth day was cele- 
brated a few days afterwards* with unusual rejoicings. 
The acquisition of Spain to the Great Empire, which 
was supposed to have been accomplished by the mea- 
sures taken at Bayonne, gave Bonaparte greater favor 
than ever in the eyes of the people. I nconscious of 

* NapOiCon was born August 15lh, 1769. 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 301 

the straggle which was yet to ensue, they looked 
only at the outward appearance of the picture, and 
believed that the great idea for which Louis XIY., 
had labored, was now realized by the force of Na- 
poleon's mightier genius. Triumphal arches were 
erected in honor of him, and the streets through 
which he passed were strewed with flowers. Every 
bell in Paris rung out its acclamations in honor of 
the great hero, whose success no obstacle could check 
— whose fame no rival that the world had produced, 
could now eclipse. Upon the cause of all these re- 
joicings, Josephine looked with distrust. She saw 
that the acquisition of Spain to the French empire 
was only a nominal one, and though she could not 
foresee that the lives of a million of Frenchmen were 
yet to be sacrificed in order to maintain it, she did 
anticipate fearful results. Our task being mainly 
with Josephine, we might leave all farther allusions 
to Spanish affairs, since her immediate connexion 
with them ceased upon her return to the capital. To 
show however, that she had ground for the fears 
which she cherished, we cannot forbear quoting in 
this connexion from the language of Napoleon himself, 
made 3^ears afterv/ards when the hand of adversity 
had hurled him from his eminence, and forced him to 
look calmly back upon the varied scenes of his won- 
derful destiny. He thus spoke at St. Helena. 

"It vv^as that unhappy war in Spain which ruined 
me. The results have irrevocably proved that I was 
in the wrong. There v/ere serious fLiiiils in the exe- 
cution. One of the i^reatest was tliat of liaving at 
11 



303 LIFK OF JOSEPHINE. 

tached so much importcince to the dethronement of 
the Bom'bons. Charles the lY., was worn out. I 
might have given a hberal constitution to the Spanish 
nation, and charged Ferdinand with its execution. 
If he had put it forth in good faith, Spain would have 
prospered, and put itself in harmony with our new 
constitutions ; if he had failed in the performance of 
his engagements, he would have met with his dis- 
' missal from the Spaniards themselves. 'You are 
about to undertake,' said Escoiquiz to me, ' one of 
the labors of Hercules, where if you please, nothing 
but child's play is to be encountered. The unfortu- 
nate war in Spain proved a real wound, the first cause 
of the misfortunes of France. If I could have fore- 
seen that that affair would have caused me so much 
vexation and chagrin, I would never have engaged in 
it. But after the first steps were taken in the affair, 
it was impossible for me to recede. When I saw 
those imhecilles quarreling and trying to dethrone 
each other, I thought I might as well take advantage 
of it to dispossess an inimical famxily ; but I was not 
the contriver of their disputes. Had I known at the 
first that the transaction would have given me so 
much trouble, I would never have attempted it." 

Josephine was now again to be alone. Matters of 
state demanded Napoleon's absence from Paris, and 
in this journey he choose to leave the Empress at St. 
Cloud. On the 21st of September, he set out to meet 
the Emperor of Russia at Erfurth, ostensibly to re- 
new the treaty of amity to which they had sworn at 
Tilsit. It was a matter of the highest importance to 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 303 

Bonaparte, that Alexander should for the present 
keep the peace which now existed between Russia 
and France. His troubles were already such that the 
influence of Alexander might have made the scale 
preponderate fearfully against him ; and affairs in 
Spain had already begun to assume a new and 
threatening appearance. Austria was evidently look- 
ing only for a favorable opportunity to take up arms 
against France. Prussia was desirious to throw off 
the yoke which Napoleon had imposed upon her ; the 
Burschenschafts were laboring zealously and effect- 
ually for the liberation of Germany, and Holland was 
ready to take up hostilities at a moment's warning. 
All this Napoleon knew, and gave all his efforts to 
dispel the blackening cloud before it should burst in 
a resistless storm upon his head. 

He reached Erfurtli on the 27th of September, and 
found Alexander as tractable as at their former inter- 
view at Tilsit. The Czar himself had ambitious de- 
signs, and wished the assurance that his French ally 
would not interfere with his attempts upon Turkey, 
Sweden and Finland. Napoleon was very ready to 
promise this, upon the condition that his own trans- 
actions in Spain should be ratified, and that he should 
be unmolested in his farther attempts to increase his 
power. These matters being settled. Napoleon had 
another scheme which in his view was full as impor- 
tant as the first. He renewed to Alexander the pro- 
posals which he had formerly hinted at Tilsit, for a 
matrimonial alliance with the imperial family of Rus- 
sia. He intended to enter on such negotiations when 



d04 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

he left Paris, and if this was not the chief design of his 
journey, it was at least his chief reason for making it 
alone. His mind was now fully bent upon a divorce, 
and a new marriage, and the house of R^ussia seemed 
at the present time to offer him the most eligible con- 
nexion. Alexander saw the embarrassment which 
would ensue should such an alliance be consummated, 
and when a direct overture was made to him for the 
hand of one of the Russian Archduchesses, he declined 
the proposal, and evaded the real difficulty, by alleg- 
ing that the difference in their systems of religion of- 
fered an insurmountable obstacle in the way of Na- 
poleon's desires. Napoleon, of course, penetrated this 
flimsy pretext at a glance, and left Erfurth highly in- 
dignant, though he manifested no outward signs of 
displeasure. It was of the first importance, that he 
should keep up friendly relations with Russia, and he 
therefore pocketed an indignity, which under more 
favorable circumstances he would have terribly 
revenged. 

Josephine heard of all these transactions at St. 
Cloud, though Napoleon had not as yet communica- 
ted to her a word upon a subject which so deeply af- 
fected the hopes and happiness of her life. Her pride 
enabled her to conceal from her attendants the agita- 
tion of her spirit, but there were moments of bitter an- 
guish when she was alone, and could commune un- 
observed with the secrets of her ovv^n heart. Yague 
rumors of the proposals which Napoleon had made to 
Alexander, had floated to the palace and were com- 
mented upon by the maids of honor, who wondered 



LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 305 

that the step of the Empress could be Hght, and her 
smile so gay, when they knew that her heart was 
breaking under the burden of sorrow. Josephine ap- 
jjeared cheerful and even mirthful. Her daily walks 
were made, and her charities distributed with the 
gentleness and generosity which had always charac- 
terized her. Her favorite swan was not for a day 
unvisited ; her pet gazelle was never denied a fond 
caress. She had a smile and a kind word for every 
one, and whether doing the honors of the imperial 
court, or attending to the wants of some poor pen- 
sioner upon her bounty — whether amid her maids of 
honor or with the nobles of the empire, in all that out- 
ward circumstances could indicate, she was the same 
blithesome being as before. However dark were her 
prospects, she still hoped on, and determined to labor 
on, knowing that the sunshine will at last melt down 
the iceberg whose glittering front has for centuries stood 
in cold defiance of its beams. When Napoleon re- 
turned to St. Cloud, she received him with her usual 
cordiality. Both she and the Emperor had cherished 
suspicion, and repeatedly manifested this disposition 
to each other ; but Josephine, though she had more 
reason to indulge the sentiment than ever before, felt 
that the present was no time for its exhibition. Na- 
poleon, also apprehensive of giving Josephine prema- 
ture indication of his views, was unusually affable 
and attentive. Thus a few weeks vanished, each feel- 
ing, but neither disclosing constraint in the other's 
society ; till Napoleon having opened the meeting of 
the Legislative Body, at Paris, with great pomp, left 



306 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

Josephine at St. Cloud on the 27th of October, and 
hastened to clear up his already darkening prospects 
in Spain. 

Josephine earnestly desired to accompany him in 
this expedition. She knew its difficulties and perils, 
and was willing to brave them in the hope of alle- 
viating them, but especially from the desire of ex- 
erting the spell of her constant influence over the heart 
of Napoleon. Her request was denied, firmly, but 
with apparent kindness. The Emperor represented 
to her the annoyances to which she would be con- 
stantly subjected, and pleaded the need which she 
had of repose. She assured him that she could bear 
the trials, and needed no rest ; that she should be hap- 
pier amid the privations of the camp, and the tumults 
of war, by his side, than alone, with all the pleasures 
of the imperial palace at her command. Napoleon 
was deeply touched with this exhibition of Josephine's 
love, yet persisted in his refusal ; for his resolution 
once taken was never reversed, and Josephine bade 
him farewell on the 27th of October, then retired to 
her chamber to weep, in secret, tears more bitter than 
any previous agony had made to flow. 

In the campaign upon which he now entered. Na- 
poleon found enough to occupy his attention, without 
proceeding farther with his plans for the divorce of 
Josephine. All Spain was alive with hostility. In 
every quarter of the land, from Navarre to Anda- 
lusia, from Catalonia to Gallicia, the voice of opposi- 
tion was swelling loud against him. The notes of 
freedom were echoed from every mountain and valley, 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 307 

hamlet and city, in tones which would have blanched 
the cheek and shaken the heroism of any ordinary 
invader. The Spanish armies, though driven from 
the plains, were still unconquered. The Alpine nests 
of Asturias ; the inaccessible retreats of Gall icia ; the 
rugged ranges which swept between the Duero and 
the Guadakpiiver ; every mountain fastness, from the 
Pyrenees to the Sierra Nivada, swarmed with sturdy 
and invincible defenders. Ferdinand VII., had been 
proclaimed sovereign at Madrid, and king Joseph, 
whom Napoleon had crowned, had been driven from 
the capital. Toledo had risen in insurrection, and 
kindled a flame of patriotic resentment against France 
which spread like a conflagration throughout the Pe- 
ninsula. As though by a simultaneous impulse, the 
citizens of almost every town in Spain, were ridding 
themselves of the French residents by a terrible 
butchery. In Cadiz, and Seville, in Carthagena and 
Valencia the streets were red with the flow of blood. 
The French armies had, also, met with untold dis- 
asters. After their first victory,* the tide of battle had 
every where turned against them. Duhesme had 
been forced to shut himself up in Barcelona by the 
brave Catalonian mountaineers ; Moncey, who had 
attempted the seige of Valencia, had been beaten 
back from its walls with slaughter and disgrace ; Du- 
pont had been driven successively from Jaen, and 
Baylen, to Menjibar, and had at last been forced to 
surrender himself and his men as prisoners, upon the 



* At Riosecca. This battle was fought on the 14th of July, 
and endel in ths total overllirow of the united Spanish army. 



o 



08 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 



most humiliating terms. Lefebvre had found the in- 
domitable zeal of the Spaniards proof against all his 
attempts upon Saragossa, and had at last abruptly 
abandoned the siege. The spirit which had in days 
of old lived in the unconquerable defenders of Nu- 
mantia and Saguntum, seemed every where to be 
breathed again into the breasts of their heroic de- 
scendants. As if the efforts and successes of the 
Spaniards, wqjq not enough to intimidate the French 
invaders, a source of fresh anxiety at this time ap- 
peared in another quarter. A heavy English force 
had landed in the Peninsula, and was now moving 
forAvard with rapid march towards the scene of con- 
flict. The advance guard of the English army had 
already crossed the Guadarrama mountains, when 
Napoleon came down in. the midst of the French host, 
which lay encamped at Vittoria. His eye glanced over 
the whole state of things in a moment, and saw that 
not an instant v/as to be lost. His plan of operations 
was immediately laid, and, with the energy which 
his presence never failed to inspire, was carried into 
execution at once. The immense host, which in an- 
ticipation of his arrival, had collected at Yittoria, was 
instantly put in motion. Marshals Victor and Le- 
febvre, with forty thousand men, were commanded 
to march upon the Spanish troops who were waiting 
for a junction with the approaching English arm}^^ in 
Biscay. Soult was ordered to put to rout Count de 
Belvidere in Estramadura, while Napoleon himself 
taking the main strength of his army, hastened with 
the rapidity and resistlessness of an avalanche against 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 309 

the whole left wing of the Spanish host, as it lay 
stretched from Bilboa to Burgos. Every where, he 
was successful. The Spanish armies melted away 
like dew before him, and the fate of all those upon 
the Ebro was finally sealed, almost before the Eng- 
lish forces had heard that Napoleon had arrived in 
Spain. Following up his successes, the Emperor 
marched at once upon Madrid, which he entered upon 
the 4th of December, after a stern but ineffectual re- 
sistance. Leaving the capital as soon as he had es- 
tablished his authority there, and collecting his for- 
ces, he hurled himself with resistless energy upon the 
British army, which, under the command of Sir John 
Moore, had already retreated to Corunna. The bat- 
tle of Corunna took place on the 16th of Janury, 1809, 
resulting in the complete discomfiture of the English, 
and the acknowledgment for the time, of Napoleon's 
supremacy over Spain. Flushed with his victories, 
and unable to foresee the subsequent disasters for 
which they opened the way, the Emperor left the 
command of the French battalions in the Peninsula, 
to his brother Joseph, and then hastily departed for 
Paris. He reached St. Cloud on the 23d of January, 
having achieved the most astonishing results in a 
campaign of but little over two months duration. In 
Bonaparte's whole course he was constantly crowding 
into a moment, events which it would have taken 
other men a life time to have brought about. He 
moved over the earth, as a meteor flashes across the 
sky, surprising and startling men by the suddenness 

and splendor of his career. But little of the time 
14* 



310 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

which Napoleon now spent at the palace was devoted 
to Josephine's society ; fresh cares were crowding up- 
on him. News that the war in Spain was after all, 
still undecided, reached his ears, while indications 
that Austria was designing war upon France, were 
becoming distinct and authentic. The Empress was 
more neglected, and the counsel which Napoleon had 
heretofore frequently asked in reference to his plans, 
was now rarely sought. This was unnoticed by all 
but Josephine, and the rumors of a divorce were less 
common than formerly. To others. Napoleon ap- 
peared uniformly kind towards her, and in their daily 
intercourse at St. Cloud, or in their occasional excur- 
sions together to the parks of Rombauillet, his cher- 
ished purpose was not anticipated by the ordinary ob- 
server. He was struggling to keep from Josephine 
the knowledge of his designs, while she was endeav- 
oring, as constantly, to keep him ignorant of the fact 
that she fathomed them all. While this double game 
was played, neither could be happy, but Josephine 
was continually seeking his society, hoping, though 
against hope, that she might break, for once, the iron 
determination of Napoleon. 

It was almost morning, of the 12th of April, that a 
courier came dashing to the palace gates, demanding 
instant audience of the Emperor. Bonaparte, who 
was still up, tore open the desj)atches which the cou- 
rier laid before him, and read with a flashing eye the 
tidings that Austria had broken the treaty of peace, 
and that Prince Charles was already marching his 
legions against the French in Bavaria. As usual, hia 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 311 

course was decided instantly ; and hastily proceeding 
to the apartments of the Empress, who had already 
retired, he broke her slumbers, and bade her be ready 
in two hours to accompany him to the borders of Ger- 
many. Said he, " You have pla3^ed the part of Em- 
press long enough, yon must now again become the 
wife of a general. I leave immediately ; you will go 
with me to Strasburg." This was the first intima- 
tion which Josephine had received that it was the 
Emperor's intentions that she should accompany him 
on his contemplated Austrian campaign. As ever, 
however, she unhesitatingly obeyed the summons. 
She was too familiar with the suddenness of Napo- 
leon's plans to be taken with surprise by any new 
movement, and was consequently never wholly un- 
prepared for an unexpected journey. Before three 
o'clock they set off from St. Cloud. Both were in 
good spirits. Napoleon had a presentiment that he 
should conquer the Austrians, and Josephine, after 
having been denied her request to accompany the 
Emperor to Spain, hailed this privilege as a mark of 
returning favor. The idea that he could be defeated 
seems never to have entered Napoleon's mind, and he 
appeared to regard the Austrian outbreak, as only a 
new opportunity of adding to his power. His destiny, 
as he fancied, was leading him on another stride in 
the pathway to greatness. He was, therefore, in the 
best possible humor, and his suavity and attentions 
brought back to Josephine the glad memories of 
other days. 
Their route to Strasburg lay through Champagne 



312 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

and Lorraine, embracing some of the finest regions in 
France. The valhes of the Marne and Meuse, en- 
chanted the travelers with their lovely scenery and 
agricultural wealth. Napoleon was well pleased to see 
the marks of thrift and industry displayed on every 
hand, for he could expect from these fresh supplies for 
his coffers and conscript rolls. A pleasing incident in 
this journey illustrates the character of both. On leav- 
ing one of the villages in Lorraine, Josephine called 
his attention to an old woman who was kneeling on 
the steps of the chapel, bathed in tears. Her grief 
touched the heart of the Empress, who sent for her, 
and bade her tell the cause of her sadness. Said she, 
*'My kind friends, my poor grandson Joseph, has been 
included in the conscription, and for nine days have 
I come here regularly to make my neuvaine that he 
might draw a good lot ; and that which he has drawn 
bears the number 4. Thus I lose not only my grand- 
son, but my prayers also. Nor is this all ; my eldest 
son's daughter is about to marry one of our neigh- 
bors, named Michael ; and Michael now refuses to 
marry her, on account of Joseph, her brother, being in 
the conscription. Should my son conclude to procure 
a substitute for poor Joseph, why, then adieu to Julie's 
dowry, for he would give her nothing ; and that 
dowry is to be six hundred francs in cash." " Very 
good, talce that," said the Emperor — sending her a 
bank note. " You will find a thousand to supply his 
place for that amount. I want soldiers, and for that 
purpose I encourage marriages." Josephine was also 
so much interested in the story, that when she arrived 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 313 

at Strasburg, she sent Julie a ricli bridal present. 
This incident illustrates the kindness which was 
always active in the Empress, and which was not a 
stranger in Napoleon's heart. 

At Strasburg, on the confines of Franco and Ger- 
many, Bonaparte left Josephine and hurried on to 
Frankfort, and the scene of action. The faithful Em- 
press would have joyfully accompanied him on his 
way, but refusing his assent, she was left behind to 
watch the progress of the campaign, the event of 
which was to have so decisive an influence upon her 
own happiness. 

In addition to the ladies of her court who at- 
tended her at Strasburg, Hortense and her children, 
the Q,ueen of Westphalia, and the Princess Ste- 
phanie contributed by their presence to remove the 
gloom of her separation. In the society of these, 
she passed a few pleasant weeks at Strasburg, when 
a messenger from Paris summoned her thither as re- 
gent of the Empire again, during Bonaparte's absence. 
She returned to St. Cloud, and amid scenes of for- 
mer enjoyment dreaded each day more deeply the 
fatal blow, which from the progress of affairs in Aus- 
tria, she perceived was inevitable, and which was to 
sever the strongest ties forever. 

To understand more fully the denouement of Jose- 
phine's strange destiny, we must now recur to Napo- 
leon in his present campaign. Like those of previous 
dates, this was a series of brilliant successes. He 
found upon his arrival in the camp that his army was 
in disorder, and that the important plans, which he 



314 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

had left an incompetent Marshal* to carry out, had 
been only partially put in execution. His forces had 
been scattered in various directions, under the mise- 
rable pretext of keeping in check several trifling di- 
visions of the Austrian host, while Prince Charles 
with the main body of his force was already occupy- 
ing the field. On the 17th of April, he arrived in the 
French camp at Donau worth, and instantly began his 
work unfatigued by the journey, or undismayed by 
the prospects before him. As rapidly as possible he 
collected his scattered soldiers, and took up his line 
of march for Vienna. At Abensberg, at Eckmuhl, 
and at Ratisbon, the Austrians, who attempted in 
great strength to block up his path were totally routed, 
and Prince Charles was forced to cross the Danube 
with the remnant of his army, thus leaving Napoleon 
an unobstructed way to the capital. He continued 
his course as rapidly as he commenced it, and after a 
short struggle, on the 12th of May, his armies entered 
and took possession of Yienna. The tidings of these 
successes were borne to Josephine, and received by 
her with gratitude ; but a new scene in the drama was 
soon to appear. The imperial family of Austria with 
one exception, had hastily left the capital, to save them- 
selves from the hands of the conqueror. The Arch- 
duchess, Maria Louisa, daughter of the Emperor Fran- 
cis n., alone remained, and met with becoming dignity 
the possessor of her father's throne at Schoenbrunn.t 



* Berthier. f This chateau was built by Maria Theresa, in 
1754, and is distant only a mile from Vienna. Maria Louisa 
preferred it to all the palaces of her father. 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 315 

It is possible that Napoleon, when refused a matri- 
monial alliance with Russia, had determined to seek 
such a connexion with Austria ; it is, at least, cer- 
tain, that this was in contemplation when he entered 
upon his present campaign. When the Archduchess 
was presented, his choice was made, and with his 
natural impetuosity, he at once paid his court and ad- 
dresses to her. The haughty daughter of the Caesars, 
heard his offers calmly, but refused to compromise her 
dignity in the slightest degree. She told him it was 
no time then to listen to his vows, and demanded pro- 
tection for herself, and safety for her fugitive family. 
Napoleon left her. resolved that the war should not 
cease till the Emperor of Austria was forced to sur- 
render to him this beautiful prize. 

All this was borne to Josephine upon the wings of 
the wind. Her private couriers told her of the youth 
and charms of the Archduchess, and exaggerated the 
influence which they were exerting over Bonaparte. 
Then followed the bulletin of battle. The tide of war 
was again swelling to its flood, and the heart of the 
devoted Empress, forgot its jealousy in the apprehen- 
sion for a husband's safety. Now his star was in the 
ascendant — then it seemed to sink, and again it rose 
in glory, and blazed with a brighter splendor than be- 
fore. Napoleon was triumphant — the campaign was 
ended — a treaty of peace had been signed — and the 
conqueror of another empire was again on his return 
to France. 

Austria was completely humbled, but yet the terms 
upon which peace was made, were so favorable to her 



316 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

that all Europe was astonished. Napoleon was not 
accustomed to shov/ undue liberality when matters 
of this kind were at his entire disposal^ but in the 
present instance, he had allowed Austria to retain 
nine millions of square miles of her territory, while 
he only took for France a few small provinces,* and 
had given her peace, upon conditions which still left 
her next to France and Russia, the most formidable 
power upon the continent. It was said at the time, 
and with great probability, that the reason for these 
remarkable concessions lay in the contemplated mat- 
rimonial alliance between Bonaparte and the house 
of Hapsburg ; though the statement that his marriage 
was one of the secret articles in the treaty of peace, 
was afterwards denied by Napoleon. 

On the 16th of October, Bonaparte left Schoen- 
brunn ; at Munich, he stopped and despatched a cou- 
rier to the Empress at St. Cloud, apprizing her that he 
should arrive at Fontainbleau on the 27th, and di- 
recting the court to proceed thither to receive him. 
So rapid, however, was his progress, that he reached 
Fontainbleau at ten o'clock on the morning of the 
26th, and of course found no preparations made for 
his reception. This threw him into a rage, though 
he could not have forgotten that his arrival was a day 
earlier than he had fixed, and cursing their tardiness, 
ordered a courier to gallop immediately to St. Cloud, 
and announce to the Empress his arrival. Fontain- 

* These were Trieste, the districts of Carniola, Friuli, the 
circle of Villach, and small parts of Croatia, and Dalmatia, em- 
bracing about two hundred thousand square miles. 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 



317 



bleau is forty miles distant, and it was one o'clock 
before Josephine received the intelligence. Aware 
of the Emperor's disposition, she set off hastily, with 
a feeling of dismay, fearing he might charge the con- 
sequences of his own haste upon her. 

Towards evening, Josephine arrived ; Bonaparte 
was writing in his library, and when an attendant 
told him the Empress had come, he took no notice of 
the announcement. It was the first time he had 
failed to welcome her after absence, and not only Jo- 
sephine, but all, marked so strange a mood. Inqui- 
ring after him, the Empress ran to the library, threw 
open the doors, and unheralded, stepped forward to 
greet him. At her first salutation, the Emperor raised 
his eyes, and without rising from his seat, gave her 
a look that was like the touch of death. " Ah ! so 
you are come,^madam," said he. " ' Tis well ; 1 was 
just about to set out for St. Cloud." Josephine at- 
tempted to answer, but her emotions choked her, and 
she burst into tears. Was this the reception which 
was to requite her love, her fears for his safety, her 
efforts for his success ? As she stood sobbing there, 
Napoleon's heart smote him, and rising, he apologized 
for his rudeness. " Forgive me," he said, tenderly 
embracing her — "I own I was wrong. Let us be 
friends again." Josephine was ready for a reconcilia- 
tion, but she could not at once dry her tears. Reti- 
ring to dress, they flowed afresh, and for several mo- 
ments she freely indulged them. What meant his 
coldness, and then his returning favor? Was his 
kindness real, or did he show it only to give her a 



318 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

false hope, as the boa is said to loosen its folds and 
look brightly in the eye of its victim, as a prelude to 
the last struggle. 

When Josephine and the Emperor again met, it was 
with mutual smiles, and apparent cordiality. Each 
seemed to have forgotten the previous misunderstand- 
ing, and mainly desirous of treating the other with 
affection. It was not many days however, before the 
attendants saw tokens of alienation. The manners 
of the Emperor towards Josephine, assumed a for- 
mality, and those of the Empress towards him, be- 
trayed an unusual constraint. It was evident that 
something had ruffled the tide of their domestic hap- 
piness. Their time was spent mostly at Fontainbleau , 
interspersed with occasional visits to the capital. 
When at Paris, every thing appeared in its accus- 
tomed way, and Josephine was ever glad of a pretext 
which called them there, for at the palace life was 
irksome and full of disquiet. Napoleon had told her 
that she stood in the way of his prosperity, that he 
needed not only an heir, but that to render his power 
stable, he must seek an alliance with one of the 
great reigning houses of Europe, that she lay as ever 
near his heart, but bade her ask herself the question, 
if it would be a pleasing reflection, that the great em- 
pire to whose formation she had essentially contribu- 
ted, was to crumble away at his death. "■ Y\^hat a 
glorious sacrifice," he would sa^r, " you can make, 
not only to myself but to our empire." Josephine 
would answer sometimes by tears, then by supplica- 
tions, and again by arguments, to which even Napo- 



LIFE OF JOcSEPHINB. 319 

leon could not reply. She would appeal by turns to 
his generosity, to his former love and to his supersti- 
tion. She would talk to him of that mysterious in- 
fluence which had bound them together, and against 
which he might not rashly sin. "See there," said 
she to him one star-light evening as they sat alone at 
a window of the palace — " Bonaparte, behold that 
bright star ; it is mine ! and remember, to mine, not 
to thine, has sovereignty been promised. Separate, 
then, our fates, and your star faciesj " 

Nothing however could swerve the Emperor from 
his purpose, and Josphine saw from day to day, that 
her influence over him was declining. It Y\^as a hu- 
miliating thought to her, that her attendants noticed 
this, and even her waiting maids had already begun 
to regard her in the light of a repudiated wife. " In 
what self-constraint," said she, " did I pass the pe- 
riod during which, though no longer his wife, I was 
obliged to appear so to all eyes ! Ah ! what looks 
were those which the courtiers suflered to fall upon 
me." The private passage-way between her apart- 
ments and the Emperor's had been closed by his or- 
ders, and the free and joyous intercourse which they 
had frequently held together seemed past forever. A 
dark shadow rested over the path of Josephine, and 
she moved slowly forward into its ever deepening ob- 
scurity, groping for light amid the chaos of happiness 
which once was hers. The language of her thoughts 
was as our English poet expressed it, 

♦' Like the lilly, 
That once was mistress of the field, and flourish'd, 
I'll hanj? ray head, and perish." 



320 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

Bonaparte endeavored to act his part without be- 
traying his emotion, but it was in vain. The strong 
man who had smiled in the face of danger and death, 
trembled as he drew near the closing scenes of this 
strange drama. Some have represented him as ap- 
pearing to act a comedy, and pass with perfect calm- 
ness through the ordeal ; but this is only an outside 
view of the picture. It was no farce that made 
Napoleon Bonaparte weep in his chamber, while his 
whole frame shook with the emotions which were 
wildly struggling in his brea^. But the iron hand 
of destiny was upon him, destiny which had impelled 
him on in the career of glory, and still pointed to a 
brighter eminence beyond — and he could not resist it. 
He looked before him, but the abyss which was 
already yawning at his feet was covered, and like 
a bed of flowers, upon which his star shone un- 
dimmed. The die was cast, his resolution was irre- 
vocably taken, and though, while he should carry it 
into action, clouds might gather upon his sky, they 
v/ould roll away, leaving his path the clearer and 
brighter, in contrast with a transient eclipse. 

It was the last day of November, that he formally 
announced his purposes to Josephine. He has previ- 
ously urged her to consent to the divorce, but had 
never before positively told her that she must cease 
to be his wife. Upon this day dinner had been served 
as usual, to which the Emperor and Empress sat 
down. Josephine had been weeping all the morning, 
and to conceal the tears which were still falling, she 
appeared at the dinner table, wearing a head dress 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 321 

which completely shaded the upper part of her face. 
The dinner was one merely of form. The viands 
were brought on and removed, but neither Josephine 
nor Bonaparte tasted the luxuries or uttered a word. 
Once or twice their eyes met, but were instantly 
averted, each fearing to read the look which revealed 
the spirit's struggle. Josephine saw that her sun- 
light had passed away, and felt that the storm would 
quickly spend its v/rath upon her. 

The dinner ceremony concluded, the Emperor rose 
and Josephine followed him mechanically into the 
adjoining saloon. Napoleon ordered all the attend- 
ants to retire and for a few moments they were alone, 
and both were silent. Josephine instinctively appre- 
hended her fate, but as she watched the changing 
expressions of Bonaparte's countenance, and read 
through these the struggles of his soul, a single ray of 
hope darted athwart the gloom. Would he, could he 
cast her away ? But all hope fled as she saw his 
features settle into a look of stern resolve, and her 
spirit sank within her, for she knew that her hour 
had come. Approaching her with trembling steps, 
the Emperor gazed at her for a moment, then took 
her hand and laid it upon his heart as he said — 
" Josephine ! my good Josephine, you know how I 
have loved you ; it is to you, to you alone, that I owe 
the few moments of happiness I have known in the 
world : Josephine, my destiny is more powerful than 
my will ; my dearest affections must yield to the in- 
terests of France." "Say no more," said the Em- 
press, " I expected this ; I understand and feel for 



822 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

you, but the stroke is not the less mortal." Josephine 
stopped ; she tried to say more but the appalling 
vision of her doom choked her utterance. She en- 
deavored to command her feelings but they were too 
strong to be restrained, and sobbing out- — " Oh, no, 
you cannot surely do it ! — you would not kill me ? " — 
she sunk upon the floor overcome with the weight 
of her calamity. Napoleon alarmed for her safety, 
threw open the doors of the saloon and called for 
help. The court physician was instantly summoned, 
and committing the hapless Empress to his care, the 
author of her misery shut himself up in his cabinet 
with feelings known only to Him, whose Omniscient 
eye ^^ searches the hearts of the children of men." 

Josephine remained in her swoon for three hours. 
Again and again, the Emperor came to inquire after 
her, and would hang over her couch with an expres- 
sion of the deepest anxiety. Corvisart, the physician, 
and Hortense, watched eagerly for tokens of return- 
ing animation, but when the Empress opened her 
eyes again in consciousness, it was with a look so 
full of sadness, that those who stood around, almost 
wished that she could then bury her sorrows in the 
forgetfulness of death. 

" I cannot describe," she afterwards writes, "the 
horror of my condition during that night ! Even the 
interests which he affected to take in my sufferings 
seemed to me additional cruelty. Oh, mon Dieu ! 
how justly had I reason to dread becoming an Em- 
press ! " When she recovered, she made no effort to 
change ?>apoleon's resolution, but simply expressed to 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 323 

him her acquiescence. A day or two afterwards she 
wrote the following letter to the Emperor, which, as 
it illustrates her peculiar feelings in relation to this 
event, we have inserted. 

" My presentiments are realized. You have pro- 
nounced the word which separates us ; the rest is 
only a formality. Such is the reward — I will not 
say of so many sacrifices, (they were sweet, because 
made for you) — hut of an attachment unbounded on 
my part, and of the most solemn oaths on yours. But 
the state, whose interests you put forward as a motive, 
will, it is said, indemnify me, by justifying you ! 
These interests, however, upon which you feign to im- 
molate me, are but a pretext ; your ill-dissembled ambi- 
tion, as it has been, so it will ever continue, the guide 
of your life — a guide which has led you to victories 
and to a throne, and which now urges you to disas- 
ters and to ruin. 

"You speak of an alliance to contract — of an heir 
to be given to your empire — of a dynasty to be founded ! 
But with whom do you contract that alliance? With 
the natural enemy of France — that insidious house 
of Austria — which detests our country from feeling, 
system, and necessity. Do you suppose that the 
hatred, so many proofs of which have been mani- 
fested, especially during the last fifty years, has not 
been transferred from the kingdom to the empire ; and 
that the descendants of Maria Theresa, that able sov- 
ereign, who purchased from Madam Pompadour the 
fatal treaty of 1756, mentioned by yourself only with 
horror, think you, I ask, that her postciity, while they 



324 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

inherit her power, are not animated also by her spirit? 
I do nothing more than repeat what I have heard from 
you a thousand times ; but then your ambition Hmited 
itself to humbling a power which now you propose to 
elevate. Believe me, so long as you shall be master 
of Europe, Austria will be submissive to you ; but 
never know reverse ! 

" As to the want of an heir, must a mother appear 
to you prejudiced in speaking of a son ? Can I — 
ought I to be silent respecting him who constitutes 
my whole joy, and on whom once centered all your 
hopes 7 The adoption of Eugene, was, then, a po- 
litical falsehood ? But there is one reality, at least ; 
the talents and virtues of my Eugene are no illusion. 
How many times have you pronounced their eulo- 
gium ! What do 1 say ? Have you not deemed 
them worthy of the possession of a throne as a recom- 
pense, and often said they deserved more ? Alas ! 
France has repeated the same ; but what to you are 
the wishes of France 7 

" I do not here speak of the person destined to suc- 
ceed me, nor do you expect that I should mention 
her. Whatever 1 might say on the subject would be 
liable to suspicion. But one thing you will never sus- 
pect — the vow which I form for your happiness. 
May that felicity at least recompense me for my sor- 
rows. Ah ! great it will be if proportionate to them ! '* 

The Empress was not a woman that yielded to 
despair, though to appear cheerful or even calm at 
this time, cost her a struggle that shook the throne of 
reason. But she was Empress still, and while her 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 325 

moments of solitude were consumed in weeping and 
unavailing regrets, she lost none of her dignity or 
ease, when subjected to the curious gaze of the offi- 
cers of the court, or the ladies who had a more im- 
mediate access to her person. She even went to Pa- 
ris, and presided at some of the splendid fetes given 
in honor of Napoleon's late victories, but in all her 
movements no one detected a step less light, an air 
less gay, a mien less commanding, than had distin- 
guished her in the palmiest days of her imperial hap- 
piness. Hortense was at Fontainbleau when Napo- 
leon made his announcement to the Empress, and 
Eugene left Italy and hastened to cheer his mother 
by his presence as soon as the first tidings of her ca- 
lamity reached him. Both of her children desired 
immediately to withdraw from farther association with 
Napoleon. Eugene tendered his resignation as vice- 
roy of Italy, and asked to be excused from future ser- 
vice. Said he, " The son of her who is no longer 
Empress, cannot remain viceroy, I will follow my 
mother into her retreat. She must now find her con- 
solation in her children." Napoleon was much af- 
fected at this declaration, and urged Eugene not to 
relinquish hastily his honors. He told him that it was 
necessity and not inclination, which urged the sacri- 
fice of Josephine, that he still loved her, and lavished 
the same affections upon her children as before. 
'' Should you leave me," said he, " and should I have 
a son, who would watch over the child when I am 
absent ? If I die who will prove to him a father '!■ who 

will bring him up ? who is to make a man of him ? " 
15 



326 LIFE OF josf:-piiink. 

Josephine also heroically pleaded Napoleon's request. 
" The Emperor," said she to Eugene, '' is your bene- 
factor, your more than father, to whom you are in- 
debted for every thing, and, therefore, owe a bound- 
less obedience." History hardly shows a stronger in- 
stance of self-denying devotion than that which the 
Empress exhibited during the whole of these scenes. 
She became willing to sacrifice all her interests — to 
leave the proudest throne the world could then boast, 
and lay her crown at his feet who had bestowed it 
upon her; to see all her hopes wither, and mourn 
over the bereavement of her tenderest affections — wil- 
ling to give up every thing could she advance the 
glory of Napoleon. This was the goal of her change- 
ful existence. The trial, though severe, was met and 
sustained. ¥7'ith heroic fortitude she looked into the 
gulf before her, and with calmness stepped forward to 
meet her fate. True, there were moments when the 
heart would rise, when the fountains of sorrow would 
overflow, but she struggled resolutely against these 
emotions, and before the day of separation arrived, 
she could talk of the event with Eugene and Hor- 
tense, with, apparently, perfect composure. 

That "fatal day" was not to be averted. It came, 
and notwithstanding her previous fortitude, the blow 
fell with a crushing weight upon her soul. A stupor, 
as though death were fastening his arrow in her 
heart, came over her. She was the gay and lovely 
Josephine no longer. She lost the self-control which 
she had with so much conflict gained, and was again 
a weak, broken-hearted woman, helpless and comfort- 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 327 

less ; a vine reaching forth in vain its tendrils for the 
support whence it was rudely torn. 

The 15th of December, had been announced as the 
day for the intended separation. Napoleon had caused 
to assemble at the Tuilleries the different members of 
his own family, the Arch-Chancellor of France, and 
all the high officers of state who composed the impe- 
rial council. It was a magnificent assembly, but 
each countenance wore a shade of gloom, as if some 
terrible blow were impending over the dearest pros- 
pects of every heart. Napoleon first addressed them 
and told them the object of his calling them together. 
" The political interests of my monarchy," said he, 
" the wishes of my people, which have constantly 
guided my actions, require that I should leave behind 
me, to heirs of my love for my people, the throne on 
which Providence has placed me. For many years 
I have lost all hopes of having children by my be- 
loved spouse the Empress Josephine, this it is which 
induces me to sacrifice the sweetest affections of my 
heart, to consider only the good of my subjects and 
desire a dissolution of our marriage. Arrived at the 
age of forty years, I may indulge a reasonable hope 
of living long enough to rear, in the spirit of my own 
thoughts and disposition, the children with which it 
may please Providence to bless me. God knows 
what such a determination has cost my heart ! but 
there is no sacrifice which is above my courage when 
it is proved to be for the best interests of France. 
Far from having any cause of complaint, I have 
nothing to say but in praise of the attachment and 



328 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

tenderness of my beloved wife. She has embeUished 
fifteen years of my hfe— the remembrance of them 
will be forever engraven on my heart ; she was 
crowned by my hand ; she shall retain always that 
rank and the title of Empress ; but, above all, let her 
never doubt my feelings or regard me but as her best 
and dearest friend." 

The sweet but faltering tones of Josephine's voice 
struck a chord of sympathy in every heart, as she 
thus, with great dignity, replied — •' I respond to all 
the sentiments of the Emperor, in consenting to the 
dissolution of a marriage, which henceforth is an ob- 
stacle to the happiness of France, by depriving it of 
the blessing of being one day governed by the de- 
scendants of that great man, evidently raised up by 
Providence to efface the evils of a terrible revolution, 
and restore the altar, the throne and social order. 
But his marriage will in no respect change the senti- 
ments of my heart ; the Emperor will ever find in me 
his truest friend. I know what this act, commanded 
by policy and exalted interests, has cost his heart ; 
but we both glory in the sacrifices which we make 
to the good of the country. I feel elevated in giving 
the greatest proof of attachment and devotion that 
was ever given upon earth." When she had finished, 
the Empress was assisted out of the apartment, but the 
exercises of the day, from which she was drinking 
such draughts of bitterness, were not yet brought to a 
close. Again had the imperial family and chief no- 
bles of the realm assembled, all in grand costume, to 
witness the final consummation. A decree of the 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 329 

Senate had been obtained, proclaiming the divorce, 
and all that was now necessary, was that it receive 
the signatures and seals of the parties to be separated. 
Napoleon wore a hat whose sweeping plumes mostly 
concealed his face, but an observer could still read in 
his countenance traces of deep emotion. He stood 
with his arms crossed upon his breast, motionless and 
speechless. A writing apparatus of gold lay upon a 
small table in the midst of the apartment, and before 
it an arm-chair was placed, waiting the entrance of 
the Empress. The door opened and Josephine lean- 
ing on the arm of Hortense came slowly forward. 
For a moment she gave an involuntary shudder, and 
paused while her lustrous eye ran over the face of 
every one present, as though she had now for the first 
time gained a full apprehension of her doom. 

" She stood, as stands the stricken deer 
Check'd midway in the fearful chase, 
When bursts upon his eye and ear 
The gaunt, grey robber baying near 
Between it and its resting place — 
While still behind, with yell and blow. 
Sweeps, like a storm, the coming foe." 

It was, however, but for a moment, and proceeding 
forward she seated herself in the chair at the table, 
and listened to the decree of the council which com- 
pleted the separation between herself and the object of 
her warmest affections. The decree was as follows : 
" Art. I. The marriage contracted between the 
Emperor Napoleon and the Empress JosephinCj is 
dissolved. 



330 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

Art. 11. Tho Empress Josephine shall preserve the 
title and rank of Empress GIueen Crowned. 

Art. III. Her allowance is fixed at an annual pay- 
ment out of the public treasury. 

Art. IV. Whatever provisions the Emperor shall 
make in favor of the Empress Josephine out of the 
funds belonging to the civil list, shall be obligatory 
upon his successors. 

Art. V. The present Senatus consultum shall be 
transmitted by a message to her imperial and royal 
majesty." 

Josephine listened to this decree, but the warm tears 
fell like rain from her quivering lids. Kising from 
her chair, she pronounced the oath of acceptance 
with a tremulous voice, and then overcome with emo- 
tions, sank again into her seat. Count Regnaud 
de St. Jean d'Angely placed the pen in her hand, 
with which she signed the fatal decree. The deed 
was done, but oh, with what a heaving heart did that 
martyr lay down the pen, and look up to catch one 
glance of love from the stern countenance, which, pale 
and motionless as that of a statue, was turned full 
upon her. With one convulsive sob she rose, and 
leaning again upon the arm of Hortense, left the 
apartment no longer the wife of Bonaparte. 

Eugene, who had been an agonized spectator of 
the whole scene, followed her closely, but his emo- 
tions were too strong for his sensitive nature to endure. 
He had hardly left the saloon before he fainted and 
fell, completely overcome by his anguish. 

Josephine shut herself up in her apartment, where 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 331 

the sorrow of her soul could he urisesn by human 
eye. She had ner^^ed herself for the issue, had for 
days been steeling her heart to composure, but when 
the blow fell, she bowed like a reed before the tem- 
pest. It was in vain that she assumed tranquility, 
the tide of feeling swept its barriers. At night she 
sought a last interview with Napoleon. He had re- 
tired to rest when, with eyes swollen and red from 
weeping, Josephine entered the apartment. She 
threw open the door but stopped, as she saw the Em- 
peror, doubtful whether to ad\^ance or retire. A 
throng of emotions — delicacy, love — the consciousness 
that she had no longer any right there, and an un- 
willingness to leave without an adieu, struggled in 
her breast. Napoleon, dismissing his servant in wait- 
ing, rose and clasped the Empress in his arms, and 
for a few moments they were locked in each other's 
embrace, silently mingling their tears together. Jo- 
sephine remained with him an hour, and then parted 
from the man who had won and broken her heart. 
Her sobs told what a weight of sorrow still rested upon 
her spirit as she left the apartment, but the bitterness 
of death had passed. 

And another trial was in store for her. The next 
morning she was to leave the Tuilieries, and bid 
adieu to scenes sacred to the memory of happiest 
years. At eleven o'clock a,n officer of the guard en- 
tered her room, and told her that he had orders to 
conduct her to Malmaison. Silently she prepared 
to obey the summons, but paused to weep again, 
when she thought of what slie had sacrificed aiid 



332 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

what she was to leave. To add to her sadness, the 
whole household who were tenderly attached to her, 
assembled together on the stairs and in the vestibule 
through which she was to pass, anxious to catch one 
last last look at their martyr mistress, " who carried 
with her into exile the hearts of all that had enjoyed 
the happiness of access to her presence," The expres- 
sions of their grief as they met her ears, were too much 
for the heart of Josephine. She would have stopped 
and taken them each by the hand, but she knew if 
she had hesitated now, a delirium of grief would lay 
her a helpless victim at their feet. She leaned upon 
one of her ladies, and moved on with mournful step, 
more tremulously and wearily than the unfortunate, 
but faithful Beauharnais, had trod the floor of the 
guillotine. A carriage stood at the gates, an officer 
assisted her up the steps, and pausing to take a fare- 
well gaze at the scenes of past greatness and departed 
happiness, she veiled a face whose two-fold expression 
of resignation and sorrow, made it indescribably touch- 
ing and lovely ; and was borne away forever from 
the palace consecrated by her presencCj to the empire 
of virtue and affection. 



CHAPTER X. 

Josephine's retirement and sorrow.— Her residence at Malmaison and 
Navarre. — Maria Louisa.— National joy at the birth op Young Na- 
poleon. — Congratulations of Josephine. — Incidents of Life at Na- 
varre. — Bonaparte's Campaign to Russia.— His Disasters.— Thb fi- 
delity op Josephine. — Letters.— Napoleon Abdicates the Throne. — 
Josephine Receives the homage and sympathy of the great. — Her 
LAST Illness and Death.— Funeral.— Summary of her Character. 

Josephine returned to Malmaison, the mansion 
which twelve years before she entered as the bride of 
Napoleon, and where she had passed the happiest 
hours of life, now heart-broken and desolate. She 
struggled vainly to calm the agitation of her unof- 
fending spirit, that forced the tears like rain from the 
swollen lids, and to hide the agony written in unmis- 
takable lines upon her meek and mournful face. 
Though past middle age, she was still youthful in 
appearance, and seemed the very angel of sorrow, 
smiling through the grief and gloom of her great ca- 
lamity ; the more distressed, because others were sad 
on her account. Every object that she looked upon 
reminded her of the varied past, her present humilia- 
tion, and a joyless future. Her favorite walks were 
no more taken for refreshment or pleasure, but be- 
came the hours of weeping, while every apartment of 
15* 



334 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE, 

that villa, chosen and embelhshed by her taste, pre- 
sented to her eye some trace of the man whose ambi- 
tion crushed her, or gave back to her imagination an 
echo of his famihar voice. It was not simply that 
her divorce was mijust, and her pride wounded by so 
rudely taking from her brow a crown she had not 
sought, but her affections were torn from their object 
and bleeding — she was spurned from a heart that had 
won her own, and loved deeply in turn — and all to 
gratify an insatiate thirst for power and permanent 
fame. None but those who have striven to conceal 
the throes of anguish which almost brought tears of 
blood, can sympathize with this uncomplaining suf- 
ferer during the months that succeeded her separation 
from Napoleon. 

Still her residence was the resort of the distingue^ 
and often presented scenes of gaiety similar to those 
of the royal palace. The drawing rooms were ele- 
gantly furnished, and the furniture adorned with em- 
broidery wrought by Josephine and the ladies of her 
court, in previous years. The apartment Bonaparte 
had occupied was untouched from the time he left 
it, excepting the dusting by her own hand. She kept 
the key and guarded its contents sacredly as the 
relics of a consecrated temple. The volume of his- 
tory lay where he closed it, with a leaf turned down 
to the place of perusal — a pen was beside it, and a 
map of the world which he used to spread before him 
and mark out his course of conquest, and show his 
conclave of confidential friends the comprehensive 
plans of action he had designed. His camp-bed, 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 335 

arms laid aside, and apparel thrown oiF carelessly 
Avhere he changed it, were undisturbed. No intruder 
entered this silent room, which to Josephine was a 
haunted spot — where she could give unchecked indul- 
gence to her bitter woe, and sit in a wild reverie, un- 
broken by the curious gaze or words of condolence. 

Her personal arrangements at this time were all 
becoming and simple. The only costly piece of fur- 
niture she added to her oyntu chamber, was the splen- 
did toilet service, made of gold, which she left behind 
her in the palace, but which Napoleon sent to her, 
with other valuable articles she refused to take as 
private property. The Empress desired now an un- 
ostentatious life — an exterior worthy of her rank, yet 
within this a quiet and secluded home in harmony 
with her subdued and wounded spirit. A letter 
addressed to her superintendent, displays her taste 
and refinement of feeling. 

'' Profit by my absence, dear P ■, and make 

haste to dismantle the pavilion of the acacias, and to 
transfer my boudoir into that of the oran gery. I should 
wish the first apartment of the suite, and which 
serves for an ante-room, to be painted light green, 
with a border of lilacs. In the centre of the panels 
you will place my fine engravings from Esther, and 
under each of these a portrait of the distinguished 
generals of the Revolutions. In the centre of the 
apartment there must be a large flower-stand con- 
stantly filled with fresh flowers in their season, and 
in each angle a bust of a French philosopher. I par- 
ticularly mention that of Rousseau, which place be- 



336 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

tween the two windows, so that the vines and fohage 
may play around his head. This will be a natural 
crown worthy of the author of Ertiile. As to my 
private cabinet, let it be colored light blue, with a 
border of ranunculus and polyanthus. Ten large 
engravings from the Gallery of the Musee, and twenty 
medallions will fill up the panels. Let the casements 
be painted white and green, with double filletts gilded. 
My piano, a green sofa, and two chaises lo?igues, with 
corresponding covers, a secretaire, a small bureau, 
and a large toilet-glass, are articles you will not for- 
get. In the centre, place a large table always cov- 
ered with freshly gathered flowers ; and upon the 
mantle-shelf a simple pendule, two alabaster vases, 
and double-branched girandoles. Unite elegance to 
variety; but no study, no profusion. Nothing is 
more opposed to good taste. In short, I confide to 
you the care of rendering this cherished spot an 
agreeable reti'eat, Avhere I may meditate — sleep, it 
may be — but oftenest read ; which says sufficient to 
remind you of three hundred volumes of my small 
edition." 

Many persons of rank from St. Cloud, frequented 
this abode of elegance, because they knew it gratified 
Napoleon, whose affection still clung to Josephine. 
From nine o'clock till midnight, all the phases of life 
at court, were witnessed here, while savans were not 
only regular guests, but in the circle of the Empress' 
warmest friends. The pencil and lyre were scarcely 
ever absent from her apartments, while Canova, then 
in his glory, adorned the galleries with the creations 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 837 

of his geniuSj or by his presence enhanced the pleas- 
ure of conversation in the saloons. 

Several months were spent in this manner at Mal- 
inaison, her sadness unbroken, however brilliant the 
social aspect ; when a change of residence brought 
diversion to her thoughts, and in proportion to this 
effect, a relief to her mental gloom. The chosen spot 
was Navarre, once a kingly palace, and celebrated 
for its extensive and beautiful park, its winding and 
crystal streams, transparent lakes, and fairy lawns. 
The chateau was in the bosom of the forest of Ev- 
reux, whose grand old trees locked their arms around 
it, and whose shadowy aisles ran in diverging lines 
into the solemn twilight. But the Revolution had not 
spared this magnificent seat ; it was a splendid wreck. 
Tangled shrubbery had usurped the mounds where 
flowers had bloomed, the streams were filled with fal- 
len branches, and the lakes stagnant with mouldering 
vegetation. To restore the departed grandeur and 
beauty was Josephine's new employment, which was 
a double source of delight, in furnishing entertain- 
ment to herself, and a means ef benevolence in the 
labors of the poor peasantry. Bonaparte gave her a 
million of francs, or forty-one thousand pounds ster- 
ling on her retirement, as part of her allowance, which 
she devoted entirely to this object. Soon the wilder- 
ness of decay " blossomed as the rose ;" the waters 
sparkled and murmured along their channels, and 
slumbered in their boundaries fringed with foliage — 
the sunny slopes were gay with flowers, and the wide 
fields alive with the laborers who were grateful for 



338 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

toil, if it purchased I read. In the centre of this mini- 
ature kingdom, the ex-Empress hved more secluded 
than before, and consequently more in unison with 
her taste. There was less parade, and fewer guests, 
but more freedom and greater intimacy of friendship. 
A quotation is subjoined, which gives with a minute- 
ness similar to a former description, the order of do- 
mestic affairs. 

" At ten o'clock breakfast was served; and it was 
the duty of the ladies and chamberlains in attendance 
to be in the saloon to receive her majesty, who was 
exact to a minute in all such arrangements. '■ I have 
never,' she used to say, ^kept any one waiting for 
me, half a minute, when to be punctual depended on 
myself. Punctuality is true politeness, especially in 
the great.' From the saloon the Empress imme- 
diately passed into the breakfast-room, followed by 
her court, according to their rank; naming herself 
those who were to sit on her right and left. Both at 
breakfast and dinner the repast consisted of one course 
only, every thing except the dessert being placed on 
the table at once. The Empress had five attendants 
behind her chair, and those who sat down with her, 
one each. Seven officials of diiFerent ranks performed 
the ordinary service of the table. After breakfast, 
which was never prolonged beyond three-quarters of 
an hour, the Empress, with her ladies, retired to a long 
room named the gallery, adorned with pictures and 
statues, and commanding a beautiful prospect, where 
they continued to employ themselves in various ele- 
gant or useful works, while the chamberlain in atten- 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 339 

dance read aloud to the party. At two, when the 
weather permitted, the ladies rode out in three open 
carriages, each with four horses, Madam d'Arberg, 
lady of honor, one of the ladies in waiting, and a dis- 
tinguished visitor always accompanied the Empress. 
In this manner passed two hours in examining im- 
provements, and freely conversing with every one who 
desired any thing, when the party returned, and all 
had the disposal of their time till six o'clock, the hour 
of dinner. This repast concluded, the evening, till 
eleven, was dedicated to relaxation, the Empress 
playing at backgammon, piquet, or casino with the 
personages of her household, or guests whom she 
named for that honor, or conversing generally with 
the whole circle. 

"The younger ladies, whether members of the house- 
hold or visitors, of whom there were always several, 
often many, whose education Josephine thus comple- 
ted by retaining them near her person, usually ad- 
journed to a small saloon off the drawing-room, where 
a harp and piano invited either to music or the dance 
under the control of some experienced matron. Some- 
times, however, this slight restraint was forgotten, and 
the noise of the juvenile party somewhat incommoded 
their seniors in the grand apartment. On these occa- 
sions, the lady of honor, who had the charge of the 
whole establishment, and was, moreover, a strict 
disciplinarian, would hint the necessity of repres- 
sing the riot ; but Josephine always opposed this. 
'Suffer, my dear Madam d'Arberg,' she would 
say, 'both them and us to enjoy, while we may, that 



340 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

delightful innocency of mirth which comes from the 
heart and goes to the heart.' At eleven, tea was 
served, and the visitors retired ; but the Empress gen- 
erally remained for an hour longer, conversing with 
her ladies. ' These conversations,' says one who fre- 
quently bore a part in them, ' afforded the best means 
of judging of the strength of her understanding, and 
the goodness of her heart. She loved to give herself 
up, without reserve, to the pleasure of this confiden- 
tial intercourse, but would sometimes check herself in 
the midst of an interesting recital, observing, * I know 
that every thing I say is reported to the Emperor, a 
circumstance extremely disagreeable, not in itself so 
much, as in the consequent restraint which it imposes.' 
Napoleon, in fact, had intelligence within a few hours 
of every thing which was done or said at Malmaison 
and Navarre. I know not that the member of our 
circle who thus played the spy was ever suspected, 
but certain it is, such an official existed. On this sub- 
ject, we may remark, that the same system prevailed 
at St. Cloud and the Tuilleries ; but what was most 
singular, besides the regular police^ established by 
Napoleon and Josephine for mutual surveillance, some 
one member of the court had gratuitously assumed the 
office of secret reporter. Within a few hours the Em- 
peror or Empress received information of whatever 
had occurred of a peculiar nature in the conduct of 
either, which the one might be deemed desirous of 
concealing from the other. These communications 
came by the ordinary letter office attached to the pal- 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 341 

aces, were evidently by the same hand, and yet the 
writer remained undetected." 

Yet Josephine felt not a thrill of joy amid all this 
change, miless upon receiving words of love from 
Napoleon, or at the gladness of others — the words of 
inspiration were deeply her experience ; <' Every heart 
knows its own bitterness ! " There is nothing more 
sad in life's changes, than the suffering of the inno- 
cent for the guilty ; the unuttered grief of a bosom 
another has robbed of hope — the slow death of one 
who has a wounded spirit. But such are the woes 
that make the pastime of half the world. The mil- 
lionare rides in a gilded chariot bought with the gains 
that made tears fall like rain — the man with a little 
brief authority walks unmoved upon the prostrate 
form of another whom he fears or hates — and in a 
thousand homes, woman is a secluded martyr to the 
vice and caprice of a heartless ruffian. 

To Josephine, this view of earth, after the comple- 
ted work of desolation, which banished her from St. 
Cloud, became naturally the habitual one, as ex- 
pressed in a letter to Bonaparte : 

" Sire, — I received, this morning, the welcome note 
which was written on the eve of your departure for 
St. Cloud, and hasten to reply to its tender and affec- 
tionate contents. These indeed, do not in themselves 
surprise me ; but only as being received so early as 
fifteen days after my establishment here ; so perfectly 
assured was I that your attachment would search out 
the means of consoling me under a separation neces- 



342 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

sary to the tranquility of both. The thought that 
your care follows me into my retreat renders it almost 
agreeable. 

"After having known all the sweets of a love 
that is shared, and all the suffering of one that is so 
no longer ; after having exhausted all the pleasures 
that supreme power can confer, and the happiness 
of beholding the man whom I loved, enthusiastically 
admired, is there aught else, save repose, to be de- 
sired ? What illusions can now remain for me ? All 
such vanished when it became necessary to renounce 
you. Thus, the only ties which yet bind me to life 
are my sentiments for you, attachment for my chil- 
dren, the possibility of being able still to do some 
good, and above all, the assurance that you are 
happy. Do not, then, condole with me on my being 
here, distant from a court, which you appear to 
think I regret. Surrounded by those who are 
attached to me, free to follow my taste for the arts, 
I find myself better at Navarre than any where else ; 
for 1 enjoy more completely the society of the for- 
mer, and form a thousand projects which may prove 
useful to the latter, and will embellish the scenes I 
owe to your bounty. There is much to be done 
here, for all around are discovered the traces of 
destruction ] these I would efface, that there may 
exist no memorial of those horrible inflictions which 
your genius has taught the nation almost to forget. 
In repairing whatever these ruffians of revolution 
labored to annihilate, I shall diffuse comfort around 
me ; and the benedictions of the poor will afford me 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 343 

infinitely more pleasure than the feigned adulations 
of courtiers. 

"I have already told you what I think of the 
functionaries in this department, but have not spoken 
sufficiently of the respectable bishop (M. Bourlier.) 
Every day I learn some new trait which causes me 
still more highly to esteem the man who unites the 
most enlightened benevolence with the most amiable 
dispositions. He shall be intrusted with distributing 
my alms-deeds in Evreux ; and as he visits the indi- 
gent himself, I shall be assured that my charities are 
properly bestowed. 

" I cannot sufficiently tha,nk you, sire, for the 
liberty you have permitted me of choosing the mem- 
bers of my household, all of whom contribute to the 
pleasure of a delightful society. One circumstance 
alone gives me pain, namely, the etiquette of cos- 
tume, which becomes a little tiresome in the country. 
You fear that there may be something wanting to 
the rank I have preserved, should a slight infraction 
be allowed in the toilet of these gentlemen ; but I 
believe you are wrong in thinking they would, for 
one minute forget the respect due to the woman 
who was your companion. Their respect for your- 
self, joined to the sincere attachment they bear to 
me (which I cannot doubt,) secures me against the 
danger of being obliged to recall what it is your 
wish they should remember. My most honorable title 
is derived, not from having been crowned, but assu- 
redly from having been chosen by you — none other 
is of value — that alone suffices for my immortality. 



344 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

" I expect Eugene. I doubly long to see him ; for 
he will doubtless bring me a new pledge of your 
remembrance ; and I can question him at my ease 
of a thousand things concerning which I desire to 
be informed, but cannot inquire of you ; things, too, 
of which you ought still less to speak to me. My 
daughter will come also, but later, her health not 
permitting her to travel at this season. I beseech 
you, sire, to recommend that she take care of her- 
self ; and insist, since I am to remain here, that she 
do every thing possible to spare me the insupporta- 
ble anxiety I feel under any increase of her ill health. 
The weakness in her chest alarms me beyond all 
expression. I desire Corvisart to write me his opinion 
without reserve. 

"My circle is at this time somewhat more nume- 
rous than usual, there being several visitors, besides 
many of the inhabitants of Evreux and the environs, 
whom I see of course. I am pleased with their 
manners, and with their admiration of you, a par- 
ticular in which, as you know, I am not easily satis- 
fied ; in short, I find myself perfectly at home in the 
midst of my forest, and entreat you, sire, no longer 
to fancy to yourself that there is no living at a dis- 
tance from court. Besides you, there is nothing 
there I regret, since I shall have my children with 
me soon, and already enjoy the society of the small 
number of friends who remained faithful to me. 
Do not forget your friend ; tell her sometimes that 
you preserve for her an attachment which consti- 
tutes the felicity of her life ; often repeat to her that 



LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 345 

you are happy, and be assured that for her the 
future will thus be peaceful, as the past has been 
stormy — and often sad.'' 

While these scenes were passing in the mansion 
of Josephine, the Emperor held councils at Paris to 
determine the most advantageous matrimonial alli- 
ance for his realm. Austria gained the honor of fur- 
nishing the second wife of Napoleon. Count Lau- 
riston and Prince Neufachatal were sent to demand 
the hand of Maria Louisa, of the Austrian monarch. 
The marriage ceremony was celebrated according to 
the definite arrangements of Bonaparte, March, 1810. 
That it is a weakness when a great mind is unable 
to descend to minute and common things, was illus- 
trated by contrast in this affair, planned and directed 
in all its details by the same genius that scaled the 
Alps, and gave sceptres to trembling kings. The 
season passed, and Napoleon rejoiced in prospect of 
an heir to his diadem and name. After a visit he 
made during this period at Navarre, Josephine re- 
marked to a friend : — 

" You cannot conceive, my friend, all the torments 
I have endured since that fatal day : I cannot think 
how I survived it. You can form no conception of 
the misery it is to me to see every where description 
of fetes. And the first time he came to see me after 
his marriage, oh ! what a meeting was that ! what 
tears I shed ! The days on which he comes are days 
of torture to me, for he has no delicacy. How cruel 
of him to speak to me about his expected heir ! you 
may suppose how distressing all this is to me. Better 



346 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

far to be exiled a thousand leagues from hence ! 
However, some few friends still continue faithful to 
me, and that is now my only consolation in the few 
moments I am able to admit of it." 

And yet this amiable, grieving exile, was among 
the first to express her interest on the father's account, 
when the birth of the King of Rome was announced. 
This event occurred March 26th, 1811, after imminent 
danger in regard to the fate of both the queen and her 
son. It was during this crisis. Napoleon, with the 
calm accents of complete self-command, said to Du- 
bois, the attending physician, " Treat my wife as you 
would a shop-keeper's in the Rue St. Denis." And 
when the question arose which should be sacrificed, 
if one must die, mother or child, he exclaimed, " Save 
my wife ! the rest affects me little." It is difficult, 
after all, to estimate the motive in the direction to Du- 
bois. For love to Maria Louisa alone, could not have 
governed him ; greater affection had been violated to 
obtain the gift he was likely to lose — but doubtless 
he preferred the probability of another heir to the 
death of a queen and the difficult care of a motherless 
infant. 

The joy which succeeded the intensely painful sus- 
pense of the people, when the thunder of cannon her- 
alded the presence of a prince in the palace of St. 
Cloud, was a wild burst of enthusiasm, that swept 
storm-like over an empire whose population was fifty- 
seven millions. Unconscious heir of prospective glo- 
ry ! — the object of national idolatry, the treasure of a 
monarch whose wealth was kingdoms, and the occa- 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 347 

sion of solicitude to the sovereigns of half the world ! 

Josephine's household were at a magnificent enter- 
tainment given by the prefect, when the tidings came 
to him, whose office required his aid in extending the 
public jubilee. The guests dispersed, and among 
those who returned to the saloon of Josephine, where 
she was alone with the Princess d'Arberg, was Ma- 
dam Decrest, who touchingly said — " I confess that 
my boundless affection for Josephine caused me vio- 
lent sorrow, when I thought that she who occupied 
her place was now completely happy. Knowing as 
yet but imperfectly the grandeur of soul which charac- 
terized the Empress, her entire denial of self, and ab- 
solute devotion to the happiness of the Emperor, I im- 
agined there must still remain in her so much of the 
woman as would excite bitter regret at not having 
been the mother of a son so ardently desired. I judged 
hke a frivolous being of the gay world, who had never 
known cares beyond those of a ball. 

On arriving at the palace, where the first comers 
had spread the news, I learned how to appreciate one 
who had so long been the cherished companion, often 
the counselor, and always the true friend of Napo- 
leon, I beheld every face beaming with joy, and Jo- 
sephine's more radiant than any, for all but reflected 
her satisfacticn. No sooner had the party from the 
carriages entered the saloon, than she eagerly en- 
quired what details we had learned. "I do regret,'' 
she continued to repeat, " being so far from Paris ; at 
Malmiaison I could have had information every half 
hour ! I greatly rejoice that the painful sacrifice 



348 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

which I made for France, is likely to be useful, and 
that her future destiny is now secure. How happy 
the Emperor must be ! One thing alone makes me 
sad ; namely, not having been informed of that hap- 
piness by himself: but then he has so many orders to 
give, so many congratulations to receive. Young 
ladies, we must do here as elsewhere ; there must be 
a fete to solemnize the accomplishment of so many 
vows. I will give you a ball. And, as the saloons are 
small, I will have the hall of the guards floored above 
the marble ; for the whole city of Evreux must come 
to rejoice with us : I can never have too many people 
on this occasion. Make your preparations ; get ready 
some of my jewels ; I must not, in the present case, 
continue to receive my visitors in a bonnet de nuit. 
As for you, gentlemen, I require for this once your 
grand costume. Her majesty- s pleasant countenance 
was, if possible, more than usually open and frank in 
its expression while she spoke, and never in my opin- 
ion, did she show herself more worthy of the high 
fortunes she had enjoyed." 

Napoleon was too much absorbed with the con- 
summation of his ardent wishes, to think for a time of 
his repudiated wife, who tempered the torture of re- 
gret, with sincere rejoicing, on the fruition of his most 
dazzling hopes. Upon important occasions, he usu- 
ally sent a special messenger to Navarre to inform 
Josephine of passing events ; but her intelligence of 
the royal birth, had come only through the prefect, 
and demonstrations of gladness that filled the heavens 
with the continual roar of artillery, and spread music 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 349 

and dancing over the land. She was grieved by this 
neglect, and addressed a note to the Emperor, which 
shows a confidence in his regard, and a magnanimity 
of soul, that none can contemplate without the admi- 
ration and interest of a personal esteem. 

^'Navarre, March 20-21, 1811. 
"Sire, — Amid the numerous felicitations which 
you receive from every corner of Europe, from all the 
cities of France, and from each regiment of your army, 
can the feeble voice of a woman reach your ear, and 
will you deign to listen to her who so often consoled 
your sorrows and sweetened your pains, now that she 
speaks to you only of that happiness in which all your 
wishes are fulfilled ? Having ceased to be your wife, 
dare I felicitate you on becoming'a father ? Yes, sire, 
without hesitation, for my soul renders justice to yours, 
in like manner as you know mine ; I can conceive 
every emotion you must experience, as you divine all 
that I feel at this moment ; and, though separated, 
we are united by that sympathy which survives all 
events. 

" I should have desired to learn the birth of the 
King of Rome from yourself, and not from the sound 
of the cannon of Evreux, or the courier of the prefect; 
I know, however, that in preference to all, your first 
attentions are due to the public authorities of the state, 
to the foreign ministers, to 3^our family, and especially 
to the fortunate Princess who has realized your 
dearest hopes. She cannot be more tenderly devoted 
to you than I ; but she has been enabled to contribute 

more towards your happiness by securing that of 
16 



350 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

France. She has then a right to your first feehngs, 
to all your cares ; and I, who was but your compan- 
ion in times of difficulty — I cannot ask more than 
a place in your affection, far removed from that occu- 
pied by the Empress Maria Louisa. Not till you 
have ceased to watch by her bed, not till you are 
weary of embracing your son, will you take the pen 
to converse with your best friend. I will wait. 

" Meanwhile, it is not possible for me to delay tell- 
ing you, that more than any one in the world do 1 
rejoice in your joy ; and you doubt not my sincerity, 
when I here say, that, far from feeling affliction at a 
sacrifice necessary to the repose of all, I congratulate 
myself on having made it, since I now suffer alone» 
But I am wrong — I do not suffer, while you are hap- 
py ; and have but one regret, in not having yet done 
enough to prove to you how dear you were to me. I 
have no account of the health of the Empress ; I dare 
to depend upon you, sire, so far as to hope that I shall 
have circumstantial details of the great event which 
assures the perpetuity of the name you have so nobly 
illustrated. Eugene and Hortense will write me, im- 
parting their own satisfaction ; but it is from you that 
I desire to know if your child be well — if he resem- 
ble you — if I shall one day be permitted to see him ; 
in short, I expect /rom you unlimited confidence, and 
upon such. I have some claims, in consideration, sire, 
of the boundless attachment I shall cherish for you 
while life remainp." 

The next day Eugene arrived and gave his mother 
the particulars she desired ; and at eleven o'clock the 



LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 351 

same evening, a page was formally announced bearing 
a message direct from St. Cloud to Josephine. She had 
not forgotten the youthful member of her former court, 
and with native kindness relieved his embarrassment 
while searching for the note he had too carefully con- 
cealed about his person, by enquiring familiarly after 
his friends and his own success. But the instant her 
hand felt the precious billet, she vanished to her pri- 
vate apartm^ent and for half an hour sprinkled the blot- 
ted sheet with tears. Eugene had followed her, and 
when they returned gave evidence that Josephine had 
not wept alone. The scene upon rejoining the com- 
pany, is thus descibed by a friend. 

" We dared not question the Empress ; but observ- 
ing our curiosity, she had the condescension to gratify 
us with a sight of the letter ; it consisted of about 
ten or twelve lines, traced on one page, and was, as 
usual, covered with blots. I do not exactly remem 
ber the commencement, but the conclusion was, 
xDord for word^ — ' This infant in concert with our 
Eugene^ will constitute my happiness and that of 
France.' ' Is it possible,' remarked the Empress, 'to 
be more amiable ? or could any thing be better calcu- 
lated to soothe whatever might be painful in my 
thoughts at this moment, did I not so sincerely love 
the Emperor 1 This uniting of my son with his own 
is indeed worthy of him, who, when he wills, is the 
most delightful of men. This it is which has so much 
moved me.' Calling, then, for the messenger, Jose- 
phine said, ' For the Emperor, and for yourself — giA^- 
ing the page a letter, and a small morocco case, con- 



352 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 

taming a diamond brooch, value five thousand francs 
(two hundred guineas.) This, indeed, was the pre- 
sent intended for the messenger should the child be a 
girl, and one of twelve thousand francs for a boy ; 
but, with her usual good taste, she made this altera- 
tion, fearing the people might talk rather of her muni- 
ficence than satisfaction. Exactly in the same 
style of splendid propriety was given the entertain- 
ment which she had promised to her little court." 

So disinterested was this sorrowful spirit, that she 
sought a friendly intercourse and correspondence with 
Maria Louisa. Though Bonaparte favored cordially 
the proposal, the Gtueen was a stranger to that eleva- 
tion of sentiment which suggested it, and jealous of 
associations involving her unrivaled sovereignity of 
the Emperor's heart, if not of the realm he ruled. 
We are, at every new disclosure of the principles of 
action that animated the heroine of this history, in- 
duced to pause and wonder, while we eulogize the un- 
paralleled nobility of nature, at the symmetry and spot- 
less purity of a character matured under influences 
generally cor::?upt, at least inadequate to the sublime 
development she exhibited. This reflection was 
awakened here by the perusal of a letter to the Q^ueen 
on the subject of more intimacy in social life. 

" Madam, — While you were only the second spouse 
of the Emperor, I deemed it becoming to maintain 
silence towards your majesty ; that reserve, 1 think, 
may be laid aside, now that you are become the 
mother of an heir to the empire. You might have 
had some difficulty in crediting the sincerity of her 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 353 

whom, perhaps, you regarded as a rival ; you will 
give faith to the felicitations of a French woman, 
for you have bestowed a son upon France. Your 
amiableness and sweetness of disposition have 
gained you the heart of the Emperor ; your benevo- 
lence merits the blessings of the unfortunate, the 
birth of a son claims the benedictions of all France. 
How amiable a people — how feeling — how deserving 
of admiration are the French ! To use an expres- 
sion which paints them exactly — ' they love to love ! ' 
Oh ! how delightful, then, to be loved by them ! It 
is upon this facility, and, at the same time, steadi- 
ness of affection, that the partisans of their ancient 
kings have so long rested their expectations ; and 
here their trust is not without reason. Whatever 
may happen, the name of Henry IV., for instance, 
will always be reverenced. It must be confessed, 
however, that the Revolution, without corrupting 
the heart, has greatly extended the intelligence, and 
rendered the spirits of men more exacting. I'nder 
our kings, they were satisfied with repose — now they 
demand glory. These madam, are the two bless- 
ings, the foretaste of which you have been called to 
give to France. She will enjoy them in perfection 
under your son, if to the manly virtues of his sire 
he join those of his august mother, by which they 
may be tempered." 

In this generous endeavor she was unsuccessful, 
although by the kindness of Napoleon permitted fre- 
quently to see his son. These visits were unknown 
to Maria Louisa, and were made at a royal pavilion 



354 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

near Paris, in the presence of the Emperor, and Madam 
Montesquieu, governess of the child. Josephine du- 
ring the interviews could seldom restrain her emo- 
tions. With Bonaparte by her side, and the innocent 
boy for whose sake she was repudiated, in her arms, 
it is not strange that she showered upon his fair fore- 
head the dew of feeling too deep for utterance. Her 
smile of affection upon the father and child, would 
break through her grief, like the bow of summer amid 
the sobbings of the passing storm. In uncomplain- 
ing resignation, she caressed the baby-king, and 
clasped him to her bosom as though he were her 
own, till Napoleon would brush away a tear from 
his own calm face, and gaze for a moment with for- 
mer tenderness on the lovely being, whose counte- 
nance so radiant with expression, made the " burial 
places of memory give up their dead," and glowed 
like living fire on his conscience. At length such oc- 
casions more seldom recurred, until from the diffi- 
culty of concealment, they ceased entirely. It was 
removing a source of melancholy joy from Josephine, 
closing the parted clouds of a tempest again above 
her drooping head, and leaving her only the rays of 
comfort that pierced the darkness, when a note or 
verbal message from the Emperor reached Navarre. 

In a letter written about this time, she alludes to 
the privilege she had enjoyed, and the necessity of its 
sacrifice. 

'' Assuredly, sire, it was not mere curiosity which 
led me to desire to meet the King of Rome ; I wished 
to examine his countenance—to hear the sound of 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 355 

his voice, so like your own — to behold you caress a 
son on whom centre so many hopes — and to repay 
him the tenderness which you lavished on my own 
Eugene. When you recall how dearly you loved 
mine, you will not be surprised at my affection for 
the son of another, since he is yours likewise, nor 
deem, either false or exaggerated, sentiments which 
you have so fully experienced in your own heart. 
The moment I saw you enter, leading the young 
Napoleon in your hand, was unquestionably, one of 
the happiest of my life. It eifaced for a time the 
recollection of all that had preceded ; for never have 
I received from you a more touching mark, of affec- 
tion. It is more : it is one of esteem — of sincere at- 
tachment. Still, I am perfectly sensible, sire, that 
those meetings v/hich afford me so such pleasure can- 
not be frequently renewed ; and I must not so far in- 
trude on your compliance as to put it often under con- 
tribution. Let this sacrifice to your domestic tran- 
quility be one proof more of my desire to see you 
happy." 

An interesting story is told of the two Empresses in 
connection with the King of Rome, Vv^hich, whether 
strictly authentic or not, illustrates their character. 
Redonte, a distinguished artist, and frequent visitor 
at the saloons of Navarre, was one morning on his 
way to the chateau with paintings of flowers, when 
he beheld in the garden of the Tuilleries a hurrying 
multitude, and heard the shouts of " The King of 
Rome ! The Empress ! " By the side of Maria Louisa, 
was- a miniature carriage drawn by four snow-white 



356 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

goats. He paused to gaze on the novel scene, when 
his eye fell upon a pale young mother near him, 
whose tears from their sunken orbs dropped freely on 
the rosy cheeks of her child. He caught these broken 
accents of grief : 

" My poor little one ! — my darling ! you have no 
carriage, my angel ; no playthings — no toys of any 
kind. For him abundance, pleasure, every joy of his 
age, for thee, desolation, suffering, poverty, hunger ! 
What is he that he should be happier than you, dar- 
ling ? Both of you born the same day, the same hour ! 
1 as young as his mother, and loving you as fondly 
as she loves him. But you have now no father, my 
poor babe ; you have no father ! " 

The artist forgot the rushing crowd, and the pa- 
geant they were pursuing, and kindly addressed the 
poor woman. 

" Madam, why do you not make known your situ- 
uation to the Empress ? " 

" To what purpose, sir ? Small compassion have 
the great ones of this world," 

" But why not make the attempt?" 

" I have done so, sir, already. I wrote to the Em- 
press, and told her that my son was born the same 
day, the same hour with the King of Rome. 1 told 
her, alas ! that he has no father, that my strength is 
failing, that we are utterly destitute. But the Em- 
press has not deigned to answer." 

" You will have an answer, rest assured. Perhaps 
the memorial has not been yet placed before her maj- 
esty. Give me your address, I beg of you." 



LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 375 

Upon meeting Josephine, who was surprised at the 
delay in his appointed call, he apologized with a re- 
lation of these incidents by the way. She replied — 

" I see the great artist, as always happens, has a 
feeling heart. If Napoleon did but know the destitu- 
tion of this child, born the same day, the same hour 
with his son ! Be with me to-morrow morning at 
nine o'clock ; we will together visit this poor creature." 

At the time appointed, Redonte and Josephine were 
threading a narrow and dismal alley, leading to the 
widow's abode, a miserable garret in the fifth story 
of a dark old structure. Ascending the damp stair- 
way, the painter soon introduced his fair companion 
to the ghastly wreck of a lovely woman, and her 
laughing boy. Josephine caressing the unconscious 
orphan, learned from the mother, the mournful history 
of her bereavement and poverty. Then rising, she 
placed in the hand of the child a purse, and with the 
tremulous tones of deep feeling, assured the widow 
that brighter days were before her — and promising 
a physician, and also a removal on the morrow 
to a cheerful dwelling. At this moment the door 
opened, and a lady elegantly attired, entered with an 
escort, and calmly surveyed the apartment, as though 
her presence were a miracle of benevolent condescen- 
sion. It was Maria Louisa, who had with unwonted 
interest in the poor, answered at her leisure the appeal 
of the sufferer. She did not recognize her rival in 
the love of the Emperor, having carefully avoided in- 
tercourse with her ; while Redonte was studying 

with an artist's earnestness and observant eye, the 
16* 



358 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 

faces of each— the one expressing the pride of rank 
and consciousness of power, the other the sweet- 
ness of benignity itself, excepting a shadow of disdain 
for the display of greatness, that passed over her sad 
yet radiant features. When the Empress disclosed 
the design of her visit, Josephine spoke — " Your in- 
tention is most laudable, doubtless, madam, but you 
are rather late ; the young mother and the child are 
under my protection." Maria haughtily replied, " I 
have some reason to believe that my patronage will 
be a little more advantageouSc" After a spirited con- 
versation in which the artist and chamberlain joined 
to defend the illustrious philanthropists, Josephine 
withdrew. For two years she protected and main- 
tained the widow and her son — and when both she 
and that mother were dead, the homeless Charles, de- 
serted by relatives, became the protege of the strug- 
gling and gifted Redonte. 

Napoleon, when an exile, said of his wives, that he 
had been much attached to them both — adding, " The 
one was the votary of art and the graces ; the other 
was all innocence and simple nature ; and each, he 
observed, had a very high degree of merit. The first, 
in no moment of her life, never assumed a position or 
attitude that was not pleasing or captivating ; it was 
impossible to take her by surprise, or to make her 
feel the least inconvenience. She employed every re- 
source of art to heighten natural attractions, but with 
such ingenuity as to render every trace of allurement 
imperceptible. The other, on the contrary, never sus- 
pected that any thing was to be gained by innocent 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 359 

artifice. The one was always somewhat short of the 
truth of nature ; the other was altogether frank and 
open, and was a stranger to subterfuge. The first 
never asked her husband for any thing, but she was 
in debt to every one ; the second freely asked when- 
ever she wanted, which, however, very seldom hap- 
pened, and she never thought of receiving any thing 
without immediately paying for it. Both were ami- 
able and gentle in disposition, and strongly attached 
to their husband." 

Josephine's benevolence never shone more purely 
than at Navarre. Her income was 125,000/. a year, 
of which four or five thousand were devoted to chari- 
table uses. The suffering were relieved — the home- 
less found refuge — and we have seen how the widow 
and the fatherless were visited in their affliction; In 
addition to this, she avoided at all times a tone of 
voice or a look, which might fling a shadow upon 
the path of the humblest pilgrim to the goal of mor- 
tality. When needful to rebuke an attendant for 
delinquency, it was simply by silence — withholding 
any expression of favor, which never failed to restore 
the offender penitently to duty. If a member of her court 
was sick, she was the first to enter the chamber, and as 
often as the strength of returning health would allow, 
appointed the meetings of her little circle in the apart- 
ment of the invalid, to cheer with their entertainment 
the heart weary of confinement. She received and 
deserved the title of " the excellent Josephine," ex- 
hibiting in the minutest details of daily life, the same 
gentleness, and magnanimity, on great occasions dis- 



360 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

played more strikingly to the multitude. She thus 
writes to a friend in relation to her joining the group, 
whose attachment lent a charm to existence, which 
misfortune had so bereft of its clustering delights. 

"You will find with me the gentlest and most 
agreeable society. Some of my ladies are kind and 
good ; they have not always been happy, and will 
therefore sympathize in your melancholy without for- 
cing you to be gay ; others will beguile you of your 
sorrows by the charms of their wit ; and with the 
gentlemen of my court you may converse on those 
acquirements which you have cultivated with pleas- 
ure and success. Some young persons in whom I am 
interested will study along with 3^our amiable daughter ; 
she will increase their knowledge by communicating 
her own, and will receive in return lessons in music 
and accomplishments not otherwise accessible in the 
chateau of her deceased father. Thus, many advan- 
tages concur to decide you to come and live with me ; 
and I venture to believe that your affection will reckon 
among these inducements the certainty of thus con- 
tributing to render my retreat more pleasing. Hith- 
erto, 1 have been surrounded by all imaginable proofs 
of regard. I have received visits from the whole of 
Napoleon's court. It is known that he desires I should 
always be treated as Empress ; and besides, people 
wish to see with their own eyes how I support my 
new situation. When they shall have been able to 
say several times before Napoleon that they have 
been at Malmaison, and shall have fully examined 
my countenance, and criticised my manners, they 



LIFE OF JOjSEPHINE. 361 

will cease to come eight leagues to visit a person 
who can no longer do any thing for them, and I shall 
be left alone with my true friends, of whom I will that 
you augment the number. These words / will have 
escaped me ; it is the consequence of a habit which I 
shall correct ; but one of my habits I shall never 
resign — that of loving you faithfully. Come, and be- 
lieve in the attachment of "Josephine." 

The continued confidence that Napoleon reposed 
in Josephine, and her devotion in return, present his 
character in a sublime aspect, however intense our 
indignation at the deed of separation. He would 
have torn his own frame with instruments of torture 
if Franc e and glory required it — and none but himself 
knew the agonies of remorse that brought hours of 
wakefulness to his couch — and the bitter memories 
that sometimes thronged his spirit in moments of soli- 
tude. The gentle Josephine felt that he must suffer 
thus, and wept over it, scarcely less frequently than 
over the hopes he had sternly trodden in the dust. 
The mutual regard referred to, is finely expressed in 
a letter written in reply to a note of enquiry after her 
health, during a slight illness. 

" Sire, — -The indisposition which has given you 
some uneasines on my account has left no bad effects, 
and I am almost tempted to bless the dispensation, 
as the cause of my receiving a billet, which proves 
you continue always to cherish the same interest in 
my Avell-being. This certainty of your attachment 
will contribute to re-establish a health which is already 
better. What you say respecting your family dis- 



362 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 



putes afflicts me so much the more that I cannot, as 
formerly, endeavor to reconcile them. I have laid down' 
as a law never to meddle with what concerns your 
sisters ; and I believe, if I were to fail in this self-im- 
posed rule of conduct, my representations would be ill 
received. I have never been loved by these person- 
ages, who interest me deeply, since your happiness de- 
pends in part upon their conduct. Envy and jealously, 
unfortunately, were the sentiments I inspired ; and now 
that I am deprived of a power, the cause of their um- 
brage, resentment still remains at having been so 
long obliged to conceal their jealousy. I believe you 
exaggerate their faults towards you, a necessary con- 
sequence of the affection you bear them. They love 
you sincerely but not with that exaltation of senti- 
ment you require in every thing ; and they feel not, 
therefore, the chagrin they may cause you. The 
dueen of Naples, for instance, was forced, not only 
to receive the Princess of Wales, while traveling 
through her states, but to observe all the honors due 
to that title. You would have blamed her had she 
acted otherwise ; for her royal highness was unfortu- 
nate — a claim more urgent than even illustrious birth. 
Why, then, inpute it as a crime to have received an 
afflicted woman, accused, perhaps, through injustice 
and calumny ? Separated from a husband and from 
a child who loved her, had she not whereof to com- 
plain ? and, why then, deny her the sad consolation 
of an honorable hospitality ? Be assured, therefore, 
that in all this there was nothing of political contri- 
vance, no intention to brave you. Your sister of Na- 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 363 

pies may be ambitious, but she overflows with tender- 
ness for yoU) and is too proud of the title of your sis- 
ter ever to do any thing which might render her un- 
worthy thereof As to the Princess Pauline, she is a 
pretty child, whom all of us have taken a pleasure in 
spoiling ; we need not, then, be surprised or offended 
at her absurdities. With her, indulgence always suc- 
ceeds better than a severity, which we are forced to 
lay aside whenever we look upon her ravishing beauty. 
Do not chide her, then ; recall her gently, and she will 
reform. Joseph is obliged to manage the Spaniards, 
a circumstance which fully explains the kind of op- 
position in which you are often placed. Time will 
bring back union between you, by consolidating a 
power opposed by many obstacles in this its com- 
mencement. When you are better satisfied with 
your family, do not fail to inform me ; none, sire, can 
more rejoice in the good understanding that ought to 
prevail there. Adieu. Calm your head — allow your 
heart to act ; there I hold a place which I desire to 
maintain, and will eternally merit by an affection 
without limits." 

These annals of private intercouse, bring the life 
of Josephine to 1812, a year of mighty events to Eu- 
rope and Napoleon. Determined to avenge the injuries 
of Russia, and extend his conquests, he put his affairs 
in order for an enterprize which attracted the attention 
of the civilized world. Disasters were occurring in 
Spain — and Wellington was on his way to Madrid ; 
but these were now the pastime of war, and almost 
forgotten in the hurry of preparation for a campaign 



364 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

which filled the timid with alarm, and made heroes 
pause in astonishment before the gigantic plan of a 
single confident and majestic mind. Defeated in the 
design of forming an alliance with Turkey and Swe- 
den, the only powers of Europe not in some way 
bound to his throne, he was yet undismayed, the only 
calm spirit that surveyed the vast and perilous field of 
conflict, spreading from the Niemen to the summits 
of eternal snow. Before his departure for Russia, he 
visited Josephine. She received him cordially, and 
with her nice sense of propriety, gave him a seat in 
the garden, where the courtiers could see, but not hear 
them during the long and earnest conversation that fol- 
lowed. She spoke of his campaign with deep con- 
cern, and would have persuaded him to abandon an 
expedition so fraught with danger. She said, '' you 
are playing for your crown, for the existence of your 
dynasty and the lives of my children." 

But the conqueror kissing her hand, entered his 
carriage, and was again in the tide of preparation 
which bore men and munitions of war toward the 
plains blackened by the legions of his foe. Maria 
Louisa accompanied him to Dresden to see her father, 
while he hastened to the banks of the Niemen. The 
mighty host marched forward, passed the Dneiper, 
gained the heights of Smolensk, and over silent re- 
doubts, entered upon a pavement of ghastly corpses 
the evacuated and ruined city. Never was there a 
more heroic and desolate march than that of the 
French battalions towards the throne of the Autocrat. 
Under the walls of Moscow a fierce struggle covered 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 365 

the ground with the dead, and as victory sent the 
shout of the Hving along the Hnes, the fog which had 
wrapped the city rolled away, and the sun poured his 
glory on the domes of the doomed metropolis. Na- 
poleon exclaimed, " Soldiers, 'tis the Sun of Auster- 
litz ! " — and pressed on to the prize. Even then he 
might have seen the flame of Russia's offering for res- 
cue, and the lurid sign of his own terrible calamity. 

That awful conflagration swept away the hopes of 
an army, leaving the brave legions unsheltered amid 
the rigors of a northern winter. Every heart quailed 
at the prospect, but that of the unconquerable Napo- 
leon. Rumors had spread in Paris that he was slain ; 
and the fanatic Mallet conceived the project of over- 
throwing the Empire and restoring in some shape 
the Republic. The stroke was given the very day 
Bonaparte turned his back on the smoking ruins of 
Moscow, and arriving at Smolensk, received intelli- 
gence of the treason. Though the conspiracy was a 
signal failure, and the insane leader with fourteen as- 
sociates were executed, the Emperor was in a rage, 
and exclaimed to general Rapp : — 

" Is it come to this, then — is my power so insecure 
as to be endangered by a single individual, and he a 
prisoner? It would seem that my crown sits but 
loosely on my head, if, in my own capital, the bold 
stroke of three adventurers can shake it. Rapp, mis- 
fortune never comes alone ; this is an appropriate 
finish to what is passing here. I cannot be every 
where, but I must go back to Paris, my presence 
there is indispensable to re-animate public opinion. 



366 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 

I must have men and money ; great successes and 
great victories will repair all ; I must set oif." 

Giving the command of his thinned and disheart- 
ened ranks to the experienced generals, among whom 
was Eugene, for whose fate a fond and noble mother 
was deeply anxious, he pressed on to the capital of a 
nation in mourning 

" For the unreturning brave." 

To him it was an entrance strangely in contrast with 
former advents upon the theatre of public homage. 
Hitherto, the flying courier, followed by the roar of 
artillery had proclaimed to the waiting millions, the 
annihilation of armies and the glory of France. Now 
he left the struggling remnants of a magnificent host 
among the blood-stained snows of a cheerless waste, 
and sadly, yet unyieldingly came again to take his 
sceptre, sullied with the touch of conspiracy. 

Intelligence of all these movements was conveyed 
to Josephine at Malmaison. She still watched with 
the tenderest solicitude over Napoleon's fate, and 
heard with deep sadness of his disastrous Russian 
campaign. An ordinary woman might have had a 
selfish delight in the reflection that her own repudia- 
tion was the first step in his descending career ; but 
this was far from the thoughts of Josephine. If her 
life would have contributed to his prosperity or hap- 
piness, she was ready for the sacrifice. She would 
gladly have hastened to meet him on his return to 
Paris, and bound up his wounded spirit, with her 
sympathy and love. She heard indeed of the con- 



LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 



367 



gratulations and addresses of the public functionaries 
of Paris upon his return — and that the cities of Rome, 
Florence, Milan, Turin, Hamburgh, Amsterdam, and 
Mayence, had sent him the assurance that his pres- 
ence alone was necessary to remove the disquietude 
that existed in the Empire, but she was also aware 
that sources of fearful trouble to the Emperor, were 
arising in the capital and in various parts of France. 
She understood thoroughly the schemes of the Phila- 
delphes,* and was apprised of that daring treason, 
headed by one of their number. General Mallet, which 
affected her deeply, for it indicated feeling against the 
Emperor, more widely extended than apparent upon 
the surface of society. In these tidings her quick ear 
caught the first moaning of the tempest which would 
wreck his splendid fortunes. 

The campaign of Saxony, upon which Napoleon 
now entered, completed his downfall. He com- 
menced it with high anticipations of success, and 
though at the outset a few great victories attested 
his genius, he soon began to feel the mortification of 
repeated defeats. His armies were no longer the in- 
vincible host, which had hitherto never failed him in 
the hour of trial. 

Toward the spring of 1814, when the allies had 
invaded more than one third of France, and Napole- 
on's throne was trembling on the undulations of an 
earthquake, whose march his prophetic vision dis- 
cerned, but which he could not avert ; he made his 

* A secret association in the army, formed for the purpose of 
overthrowing the Imperial power. 



368 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

last visit to the home of Josephine. The bright sun 
was sinking behind the purple hills, and Malmaison 
was peaceful as though the plains and slopes of vine- 
clad France were untrodden by contending armies, 
and unreddened by the blood of slaughter, when 
with distressful air, the Emperor entered the retreat 
of her Avho clung to his side with intenser aifection 
amid the gloom of darkening disaster. They wept 
together, and while he looked upon her sad and lov- 
ing face he said — " Ah ! I have been as fortunate as 
was ever man on the face of the earth ; but to-day, 
now, when a storm is gathering over my head, I have 
not, O Josephine, in the wide world, any but you upon 
whom I can repose." 

The Jacobins were disposed to offer their influence 
to save the " child of destiny," but demanded in re- 
turn entire control of the press, and permission to ad- 
vocate freely the principles of the revolutionaiy period. 
His words on the subject are forceful, and indicate 
regard for enlightened freedom not wholly extin- 
guished by absolute rule ; and disclose some filial 
emotion in this offspring of Liberty, " to whom he 
owed every thing, though he had disowned his mother, 
and was about to fall." He said indignantly, "This 
is too much ! In battle I shall have a chance of 
deliverance ; but I shall have none with these fu- 
rious blockheads ; there can be nothing in common 
between the demagogic principles of ninety-three, and 
the monarchy ; between clubs of madmen and a reg- 
ular ministry ; between revolutionary tribunals and 
established laws. If my fall is decreed, I will not at 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 369 

least bequeath France to the revolutionists from 
whom I have delivered her." 

"When about leaving Paris to make the last desper- 
ate onset upon his exulting foe, he summoned the 
National Guard to the Tuillieries, and while the large 
and brilliant assembly were waiting in the deepest 
silence. Napoleon entered the hall leading by the hand 
the son of his hopes, not yet three years old. With a 
calm but melancholy mein, he surveyed the impres- 
sive scene, then with his usual clear and sonorous 
voice, delivered a speech, from which the following 
is a quotation. 

" Gentlemen, and Officers of the National Guard ! 
I am happy to see you around me. This night I set 
out to take the command of the army. On quitting 
the capital, I confidently leave behind me my wife, 
and my son, in whom so many hopes are centered. 
Under your faithful guard I leave all, that, next to 
France, I hold dear. To your care they are intrusted." 

Bonaparte threw himself into the overwhelming 
tide of allied forces, and struggled nobly to regain the 
foundation of sovereignty, sliding so rapidly from be- 
neath his feet. He did not however forget Josephine, 
but as often as communication was possible sent letters 
breathing the warmest affection ; while hers in return 
were hailed with delight that brooked no delay in pe- 
rusal, even amid the very tumult of battle. At length 
the closing scenes in the terrible tragedy of which a 
hero and king was the victim, interrupted the corres- 
pondence. She could almost behold the field of strife 
and hear the discordant roar of combat. 



370 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

One day while sitting in a summer-house, looking 
toward Paris, she saw a Sister of Charity near her 
casement, and inquired respecting her mission of mer- 
cy. The nun told her that the sisterhood had many 
wounded officers under their care, and no sheets with 
which to hind the bleeding limbs, and that she was 
on her way to the capital for a supply. The Em- 
press immediately took the purchase into her own 
hands, and the saloons of Malmaison became alive 
with the activity of fair women, preparing lint and 
bandages for the suffering. 

Josephine was tortured with suspense, and when 
she heard that the royal family were flying to Blois, 
before the advancing invaders, in her excitement and 
despair, she determined to depart for Navarre. On 
her way thither, discovering a detachment of troops 
in the distance, who were French hussars, she mis- 
took them for the terrible Cossacks, who had de- 
scended like demons upon the arena of universal war. 
Beneath the peltings of the storm, she fled across the 
fields ; and when the illusion was dispelled, entering 
her carriage she silently pursued her journey, and 
awakening as from a trance upon their arrival at the 
palace, it is related, exclaimed, " Surely, surely, Bo- 
naparte is ignorant of what is passing within sight of 
the gates of Paris ; or if he knows, how cruel the 
thoughts that must now agitate his breast ! Oh ! if 
he had listened to me ! " 

On the 31st of March, 1814, the allies entered Pa- 
ris. During the fierce struggle beneath its walls upon 
the preceding day he was at Troyes, and with a suite 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 371 

of four officers traveled towards the metropolis at the 
rate of fifteen miles an hour, but did not hear of the 
decisive battle till within a few miles of the city. 
His army followed, marching with the unrivaled ra- 
pidity of more than fifty miles a day. Napoleon tried 
to inflame the enthusiasm of his generals and strike 
once more for France — but it was too late ; the ene- 
mies of the new dynasty and of freedom had thrown 
their Briarean arms around both and crushed them. 
On the 11th of April, Bonaparte signed the articles of 
unconditional abdication of his throne, expressed in 
these words : — 

" The Allied Powers having proclaimed that the 
Emperor Napoleon is the only obstacle to the re-es- 
tablishment of peace in Europe ; the Emperor Napo- 
leon, faithful to his oath, declares that he renounces 
for himself and his heirs the thrones of France and 
Italy, and that there is no personal sacrifice, even that 
of life, which he is not ready to make for the interests 
of France." 

Maria Louisa without having a parting interview 
with the Emperor as she requested, departed for Ram- 
bouillet with her son, and soon after for Austria. She 
was attached to Napoleon, but how unlike in her re- 
signation to his fate, the disinterested and magnan- 
imous Josephine. She in the meantime, was reading 
with swimming eye his last messages, or carrying 
them in her bosom, near her beatmg heart. 

Vague rumors only had broken the painful silence 
of many days, when the subjoined letter confirmed 



372 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 

her apprehensions, and revealed the changeless de- 
votion of a proud and fallen manarch. 

" FONTAINBLEAU, APRIL 16, 1814. 

" Dear Josephine, — I wrote to you on the 8th of 
this month (it was a Friday,) and perhaps you have 
not received my letter. Hostilities still continued : 
possibly it may have been intercepted ; at present 
the communications must be re-established. I have 
formed my resolution ; I have no doubt this billet 
will reach you. I will not repeat what I said to you : 
then I lamented my situation ; and now I congratu- 
late myself thereon. My head and spirit are free 
from an enormous weight. My fall is great, but at 
least it is useful, as men say. In my retreat I shall 
substitute the pen for the sword. The history of my 
reign will be curious ; the world has yet seen me 
only in profile — I shall show myself in full. How 
many things have I to disclose ! how many are the 
men of whom a false estimate is entertained ! I have 
heaped benefits upon millions of wretches ! What 
have they done in the end for me 7 They have all 
betrayed me — yes, all. I except from this number the 
good Eugene, so worthy of you and of me. Adieu, my 
dear Josephine ; be resigned as I am, and ever re- 
member him who never forgot, and never will forget 
you. Farewell, Josephine. "Napoleon." 

" P. S. I expect to hear from you at Elba : I am 
not very well." 

When the paroxysm of grief was over, she spoke 
with all the ardor of her earnest spirit of the forsaken 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 373 

Exile : "I must not remain here — my presence is 
necessary to the Emperor. That duty is indeed more 
Maria Louisa's than mine ; but the Emperor is alone 
— forsaken. Well, I at least will not abandon him. 
1 might be dispensed with while he was happy — 
now, I am sure he expects me." Then turning with 
more composure to her chamberlain added — '• I may, 
however, interfere with his arrangements. You will 
remain here with me till intelligence be received from 
the allied sovereigns — they Avill respect her who was 
the wife of Napoleon.'' 

The allied sovereigns did not disappoint her— slie 
was urged to keep her residence at Malmaison, and 
assured of their friendship and protection. 

The Emperor Alexander of Russia, was especially 
attentive and kind to Josephine, and as the only ref- 
uge, she accepted the generous proposal, and was 
soon quietly restored her favorite hermitage. Napo- 
leon was a prisoner to the Kings of Europe, and like 
a caged eagle, his soaring genius was confined within 
the narrow horizon of ocean-bound Elba, while their 
vulture gaze was still fixed anxiously upon him. 
Josephine's heart was there with the captive, as is 
seen in her letter addressed to him soon after his ar- 
rival upon the island. 

'SSiRE — Now only can I calculate the whole ex- 
tent of the misfortune of having beheld my union 
Avith you dissolved by law ; now do I indeed lament 
being no more than your friend, who can but mourn 

over a misfortune great as it is unexpected. It is not 
17 



37l LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

the loss of a throne that I regret on your account ; I 
know from myself how such a loss may be endured ; 
but my heart sinks at the grief you must have expe- 
rienced on separating from the old companions of 
your glory. You must have regretted, not only your 
officers, but the soldiers, whose countenances even, 
names, and brilliant deeds in arms you could recall, 
and all of whom you could not recompense ; for they 
were too numerous. To leave heroes like them, de- 
prived of their chief, who so often shared in their toils, 
must have struck your soul with unutterable grief; 
in that sorrow especially do I participate. 

'• You will also have to mourn over the ingratitude 
and falling away of friends, on whom you deemed 
you could confide. Ah ! sire, why cannot 1 fly to 
you ! why cannot I give you the assurance that exile 
has no terrors save for vulgar minds, and that, far 
from diminishing a sincere attachment, misfortune 
imparts to it new force ! I have been on the point of 
quitting France to follow your footsteps, and to con- 
secrate to you the remainder of an existence which 
you so long embellished, A single motive restrained 
me, and that you may divine. If I learn that, con- 
trary to all appearance, I am the only one who will 
fulfil her duty, nothing shall detain me, and I will 
go to the only place where henceforth there can be 
happiness for me, since I shall be able to console you 
when you are there isolated and unfortunate ! Say 
but the word, and I depart. Adieu, sire ; whatever I 
would add would still be too little ; it is no longer by 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 375 

words that my sentiments for you are to be proved, 
and for actions your consent is necessary. 

"Josephine." 

" Malmaison has been respected ; I am there sur- 
rounded with attentions by the foreign sovereigns, 
but had much rather not remain." 

But the constitution of Josephine began to yield to 
the repeated shocks it had sustained during the event- 
ful years, whose departure left her a divorced and 
crownless queen, and the Emperor who deserted her, 
a throneless exile on a solitary island. To increase 
her solicitude and suffering, promised pensions were 
withheld, and her sensitive nature put to the torture 
by distressing embarrassment. As spring advanced, 
her system began to develops disease, and by the ap- 
plication of remedies, obtained a partial and transient 
restoration. This was in the beginning of May. On 
the tenth, she gave a dinner party, upon which oc- 
casion among the distinguished guests, was the Em- 
peror Alexander. Though suffering alternately the 
thrilling pain and chills which shook her delicate 
frame, she assumed her wonted smile, and after the 
entertainment, joined in games of amusement on the 
beautiful esplanade. Compelled at length to retire 
from the ring, she betrayed her suffering only by the 
palor of her countenance, and in reply to enquiries as- 
sured her friends it was fatigue, and would be gone 
with the morrow. But disease Avas doing its work. 
The successive days brought no relief, and by the 
25th, she was rapidly sinking before the ravages of a 
malignant quinsy. 



376 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

Physicians were constantly by her side ; science and 
love exhausted their resources to rescue the uncom- 
plaining sufferer from the skeleton hand of the de- 
stroyer. She was conscious of her danger, but sweetly 
avoided any intimation of it, or utterance of pain, that 
might distress those who were watching for a ray of 
returning hope. But none shone on the marble fore- 
head of the dying Josephine. 

Eugene and Hortense were apprised by the physi- 
cians that death was near, that they might prepare 
for the dreaded event. They whispered with falter- 
ing accents in the ear of that mother, her approach- 
ing doom, v/hile they hung over her couch with the 
agony of breaking hearts — like those beside the grave 
of hope. Nor is it strange that such grief wa^ theirs ; 
a mother — and one who was an angel of love and 
guidance to their path, was just entering the portal of 
a bourne, whence no fond voice replies to the spirit's 
questioning or its bitter prayer. Josephine soon after 
received the sacrament. 

The Emperor Alexander arriving, approached her 
bed-side ; and as the fading eye of Josephine recog- 
nized him, she rallied her departing strength, and, 
while a new light beamed upon his features and 
then fell on her kneeling and weeping children, — she 
beckoned to the silent group about her to come near, 
and said with a celestial smile, and in tones of death's 
gentlest music — 

" At least I shall die regretted ; I have always de- 
sired the happiness of France ; I did all in my power 
to contribute to it ; and I can say with truth to all of 



LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 377 

you now present at my last moments, that the first 
wife of Napoleon never caused a single tear to flow." 

As these words died upon her lips, she passed into 
a slumber, unbroken till on the morning of the 29 th of 
May, she left the shadows of time for the realm of 
immortality. 

The body was embalmed and laid in a coffin of 
sycamore lined with lead, and on the 2d of June, the 
funeral procession moved from Malmaison to the vil- 
lage of St. Ruel. While the remains lay in State, 
twenty thousand persons from various parts of France, 
came to look on the illustrious sleeper — and when the 
concourse followed her to the grave, Sovereigns led 
the countless host, and two thousand poor formed the 
last company of mourners, deeply lamenting the loss 
of their benefactor. An oration was made on the oc- 
casion by the Archbishop of Tours, and while prayers 
were offered by the Bishops, Hortense was alone in 
her devotions, having retired to a chapel, where un- 
disturbed, she might pour her grief on the infinite 
bosom of Him whose name is Love. And when the 
multitude had gone from the sacred edifice, how 
beautiful the spectacle of that sister kneeling with 
Eugene beside the tomb : and both baptizing it with 
their tears. Upon the simple monument of unadorned 
marble, Josephine is represented in royal robes, in the 
attitude of kneeling, and on the memorial of virtue, 
whose snowy whiteness is no false symbol of charac- 
ter, is the brief and affecting inscription, 

"EUGENE AND HORTENSE TO JOSEPHINE." 



378 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 

In the narrative of stirring events, and common in- 
cidents in the hfe of Josephine, the same unselfish 
motives of action, untarnished virtue, gentleness and 
fidelity, are always visible. She was endowed with 
a fine intellect, and an attractive though not beauti- 
ful person. But what is most conspicuous and lovely, 
is her warm and earnest sympathy with the suf- 
fering — ^her joy in doing good. And while the name 
of Napoleon is repeated with admiring wonder at the 
splendor of his genius, and sadness because of its per- 
version, in the memory of all the good to the last hour 
of time, will be embalmed the name of Josephine ! 







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